


Big Bada Boom

by BethAdastra



Category: Fifth Element (1997), Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Lio is grumpy and Galo is... constantly naked that's it that's the plot, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, big bada boom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAdastra/pseuds/BethAdastra
Summary: Just when Lio Fotia thought his day couldn’t get any shittier, a naked man fell through the roof of his car.Galo is the Fifth Element, and Lio is tasked with helping him save the world from a great and terrible evil. Along the way, they’ll meet the likes of the Brotherhood (Meis, Guiera, Remi, Varys), Kray Foresight, Aina & Heris Ardebit, and even the charismatic DJ Lulu Fex. Get ready for lots of nudity, explosions, smooching, and elastic clothing.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 35
Kudos: 69





	1. Iron & Aluminum I

Just when Lio Fotia thought his day couldn’t get any shittier, a naked man fell through the roof of his car.

Now, despite the instantaneous nature of the incident, Lio could not have had any idea of just how long this moment had been in the making. He could not have known that he was dealing with forces as old as the universe itself, and that the universe was particularly fond of serendipity.

So, of course, to really get a full scope of the ridiculousness that is the universe, it would be best to start with the Parnassus, which was drifting half a solar system away from Earth. Humanity was advanced enough that life beyond the stars had finally made itself known, however, worlds beyond the solar system were acutely aware that human nature came with folly. Warships like the Parnassus wandered the solar system the same way taxicabs clogged the streets of Promepolis.

Biar Colossus, a general of the Earth Federation Armed Forces, tapped her foot impatiently on the deck of Parnassus. She was scowling towards the bridge, looking for answers out in the cold, dark depths of space that her own mortal eyes couldn’t find.

Parnassus was watching. Waiting for something.

Being somewhat in the dark (literally and figuratively) pissed her off. And the easiest way for General Colossus to handle her anger was to take it out on someone else. Right now, her victim was a heliophysicist glued to his gauges and monitors, trying to observe shadows cast by Saturn as it eclipsed the soft blue-white light of the sun.

“What’s its temperature?”

“The meter’s on the fritz. It says zero K sometimes, and one million K other times.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I know.” He shrugged, and slurped at a packet of protein sludge.

Before she could snatch the food out of her subordinate’s hands, another voice interrupted.

“Eclipse complete! It’s taking form!”

Now that the thing was within visual range, eyes lifted from various monitors to the wide panorama window of the bridge. They had been waiting hours for this.

Saturn, Neptune, and Uranus were completing a rare cosmic dance. Aligned in a perfectly equilateral triangle for mere moments, something began to take form at the epicenter. Something began to emerge out in the void, but it never kept its shape long. One moment, it was an oily slick mass, the next, a shimmering orb of hot white light. It was grotesque in all forms, and the general wasn’t afraid to make that observation out loud.

“What the hell _is_ that?” 

“The thing we’ve been looking for?” the scientist added unhelpfully.

Colossus’ aide approached while typing furiously into a tablet, and scurried only close enough to hand the device to her. “President Ex is on the secure line, sir.”

The general cursed, and waved a hand to one of her technicians. “Send out a probe. I need answers, and I need them now.”

Taking a deep breath and tapping a series of buttons, she got straight to business. The line went live, and a mustachioed face flickered onto the screen. It was not a happy face.

“What is our status, Colossus?”

“Mr. President! Sir, it looks like at least part of your little astrophysics theory was correct!”

“Should I take that as good news then? Or are we finding ourselves in more… dire circumstances?” President Ignis Ex chose his words carefully, and when taken in combination with his radiation-blocking sunglasses and tattoos peeking out from the collar of his suit, he struck quite the intimidating figure. Of course, the general several lightyears away didn’t seem to see it as such.

“Beats me. Ask one of your little loonies over there. Aren’t they the ones who are supposed to be experts on this?"

▲

Back at Earth’s Lunar Port, in a room full of politicians, soldiers, and other dignified titles that came to represent the Earth Federation, four pairs of eyebrows squinted together in angry unison at the image of General Colossus. A quartet of mumbling rose, and the President motioned for the four of them to approach and make their case.

Depending on how you looked at it, the four representatives of the Brotherhood were either prophets ahead of their time, or zealots with an interest in astrophysics.

According to the Elemental Brotherhood of Protection and Preservation of Earth, or more simply known as the Brotherhood, an apocalypse event was forming near the edge of Earth Federation space. For centuries, the Brotherhood claimed that they served an alien race that was dedicated to protecting all sentient life from this apocalyptic thing, and that within the next few days, this thing would attempt to destroy the Earth.

People didn’t take the Brotherhood very seriously for most of its existence; it was likened to a club for failed astrophysicists. At least, it was until several Nobel Peace Prize recipients revealed themselves as followers and believers. And when the Earth Federation was formed, and the existence of the mysterious race of the promare was corroborated by other homeworlds, people started taking the Brotherhood more seriously. And in the last 24 hours, after decades of research and theorizing and arguing and deliberating, the alignment of Neptune, Uranus, and Saturn into an equilateral triangle proved that, just like the Brotherhood and promare claimed, something was being summoned from the depths of dark space.

But there were still doubters. Biar Colossus was one of them.

Guiera, who went sans surname, grumbled under his breath and tugged at the scratchy collar to his formal jacket while he stood before President Ex. As the loudest and youngest member of the Brotherhood, it was easiest to let him blow off his hot steam first. There was a running joke that his temper was a contributing factor in his preferred element of work being Fire. Even his hair, which was coarse, messy, and ruddy, comically resembled a fireball.

Remi Puguna, another Brotherhood representative, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and glared daggers at Guiera. As the unofficial leader of the group, Remi dressed the most formal, and maintained a chilly demeanor that said “No Nonsense.” He also was naturally gifted in working with the element of Water, and this in turn made him and Guiera come to blows on a daily basis.

Varys Truss was the largest and most intimidating member of the group… but behind all of the muscle, he was the biggest bleeding heart. He preferred when others made the big decisions for the Brotherhood, and spent most of his time outside of work volunteering for shelters, food kitchens, and animal rescues. He represented the element of Earth, and was a steady force that kept the antagonism between Remi and Guiera in check.

Meis was the last of the four to reach the President’s podium. He was the quietest member, and represented the rarest element to have a following in the Brotherhood, which was Air. Like Guiera, he kept his last name a secret, and kept a solid wall of separation between his work as a priest, and whatever he did in the outside world. The others had a running bet to try and figure out what he did with his time off. Popular guesses included hair stylist (on account for his long, silky black hair), ghostwriter (he wrote better than he spoke), and former gang leader (with no logical explanation, Guiera simply said it sounded cool).

Together, the ragtag team acted as the earthly inheritors of the promare prophecy. They kept tabs on their followers and ensured that Brotherhood interests were upheld during research and development projects all over the world.

“The General sounds like an idiot,” Guiera mumbled to no one in particular, and it earned a sharp jab from both Remi and Meis.

“Technically the promare predicted the formation of an event horizon five thousand years ago, we’re just the ones here to say ‘We told you so!’” Guiera spoke directly to the President.

“And do you know what this… thing from beyond the event horizon is supposed to be?”

“Evil.” Varys said the word firmly, but then quickly added, “At least, according to the promare. There hadn’t been enough time to explain further, and our research is probably no better than the probes sent out by the Parnassus.”

Across the galaxy, Biar turned to her aide to try to find out more.

“What happened to the probe?”

“We… uh, well, according to our sensors, General, the probe, it… it just disappeared.” 

Ignis said, “Try to make contact. See if its sentient.”

More shuffling happened on the flagship.

A stream of greetings, in both Earthen and non-Earthen languages began to play on all frequencies. “You are being hailed by the flagship Parnassus.” “You are entering outer Earth Federation space.” The Voyager Golden Records were played. “We come in peace.” Yada yada yada.

The… thing… seemed to pause and listen. Or, at least, it ceased activity enough that all the monitors on the bridge of the warship went quiet.

A fiery speck of light left the mysterious mass, and shot straight for the communications relay on the hull of the ship. Parnassus shuddered, and switched to emergency comms. Biar snapped her fingers at the first officer, and the whole ship went to high alert.

“It’s moving away from the epicenter, General.”

“Direction?”

“Towards Saturn. Current trajectory could have it at Earth in a week.”

“Send out a missile. If it won’t heed our words, then firepower will have to do. Mister President, do I have your authorization to fire?”

“Only one missile.”

“Yes sir!”

Bright white and sleek as an eggshell, a single missile was sent out to strike.

The missile hit right on target, but if anyone was being truly honest, it looked like the missile was simply… swallowed. No explosions, no fiery resistance. Just like that, a multi-billion dollar warhead was simply _gone._

The bridge was silent.

And then the thing… became bigger.

Monitors began beeping. Heat signatures spiked. 

A solar flare, or a great fiery whip, stretched out from the sphere. It whirled and lashed about like the tail of an angry animal. After a few seconds, the flare erupted, and a mess of debris and hot gas blasted one side of the ship.

Biar’s screen visibly shook. 

“The missile was absorbed. I recommend we fire more –"

“It’s coming this way!” The first officer shouted.

The thing was approaching. Her hands tightened on the tablet.

“Orders, sir?”

“Retreat.”

“With all due respect, sir, I believe we can still –"

“That wasn’t a recommendation, Colossus.”

“Sir, if we could just –"

“You have ten seconds to turn around and get the Parnassus out of there.”

Biar wasted a second considering her options. She spent another second looking at her monitor, to see if the warheads were still trained on the thing from the void.

Biar wasted one more second making one of the worst calls of her life. She held up three fingers, and said, “Fire.”

Within seconds, three more missiles dropped away from the ship, and hurtled towards the void-thing. Like the first warhead, the others were gulped without so much as a spark.

“Colossus!”

“We still have five seconds –" she bit out.

Everything in the Parnassus tipped over as a deeper-than-bass vibration struck the ship. Metal screeched under the pressure of the invisible blast, and various knick-knacks and papers littered the floor. Red lights popped up everywhere, and when fiery comets began popping up, people began screaming.

When one comet struck a corner of the ship, Biar finally accepted that the tools she had at her disposal would not work against her enemy. Dipping her head in defeat, she gestured for the Parnassus to take a quick retreat using one of the pre-programmed flight paths.

With a broken tablet screen, she could only hear the audio from President Ex.

“You are to take Parnassus to the inner Federation border. No more questions.”

Biar mumbled in agreement, and cut the link before retreating to a holding position just beyond the Martian asteroid belt.

▲

Ignis turned to the Brotherhood, and tapped a finger on his armrest. He glared at Remi.

“You have the floor. I trust your suggestions won’t involve as many explosions?”

Remi knew that flashy displays and long speeches wouldn’t impress Ignis. He needed to have the answers, and they had to be right, and they had to be given quickly.

Back in Remi’s not-so-distant past, he had been military just like Ignis. Both trained as shipboard mechanics, though at the time, Ignis was an officer while Remi was a new recruit. Soon enough, they had gone their separate ways, but not before Ignis learned about the elemental brotherhood, and took their theories and claims into serious consideration. He had always considered Remi Puguna a calm, logical person, and was perfectly at ease with hearing him out when he had something to say.

Remi wasn’t much for words, but when he spoke, you listened.

“We will need to gather the four elements at the Old Temple. That is where Deus Prometh last saw them, and where they will need to be for combating this…” he gestured at the grotesque blob that the Parnassus had photographed before retreating, “By gathering the elements, we will be able to protect Earth. The Brotherhood has served the promare for the last few centuries, and –"

“Give us the solution, priest, not a history lesson!” someone snarled from the back of the room.

“Go on.” Ignis waved, indicating that Remi could continue talking. He peered over his glasses at the unlucky fellow who spoke out of turn, and two security guards walked him out of the chambers.

“I won’t pretend you don’t know about the four elements,” he gestured at his compatriots, “but what many don’t know, even amongst our own, is that there is a fifth element.”

Ignis’ face was unmoving. But he was listening.

“The fifth element is the key in stopping all this. It is said that together, all five create the elements of life, and create something, something like a light that is so powerful it can destroy the threat of the evil beyond the void.”

Scientists and diplomats murmured amongst each other, all with questions hidden in words like “Light?” “Void?” “Lasers?”

Ignis chose his words carefully. “And where can we find this… Fifth Element? I see four of you here.”

Remi pushed up his glasses.

“There was a box the promare kept on Earth for a while. One of their own acted as the vessel and protector for the elements, and for a short while, humans watched over the box. When Deus Prometh was excavating ruins at the Old Temple in 1914, he was approached by one of the promare, and witnessed them removing the Fifth Element. They told him it wasn’t safe to keep it on Earth, and ever since then, they’ve been holding on to the elements for safekeeping.”

“So where are the promare now?”

Meis held up a datapad.

“A promare ship is requesting entry to our territory right now. They’re in a holding pattern just past Mars. Just like we predicted.”

Ignis decided to play the devil’s advocate. “There are those who think involving ourselves with the promare would invite more trouble. They’ve rejected our invitation to be allies with the Earth Federation multiple times. You even said they took away the elements all those years ago, maybe even at a time when we needed them most…”

“Now is the time we need them the most.”

Ignis pondered this. He was silent for almost a full minute.

“And you will take responsibility for this if you turn out to be wrong?”

Remi nodded. As he spoke, he kept his voice quiet but firm. “Sir! They’re the only ones who can help us. If we don’t accept their help, this entire galaxy will be doomed. Let. Them. In!”

Ignis sat with his fingers steepled together.

The promare entry request blinked on a single amber lightbulb, waiting for response.

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. 

Everyone held their breath.

“Let them in.”

▲

Captain Vulcan Haestus, a Federation outlaw and tried war criminal, cackled as he listened in on the bickering amongst the Earth Federation. While the Federation argued with its own border patrol about the legality of admitting an alien ship at the Lunar Port, he was conveniently waiting for the little promare ship, just on the other side of a series of buoys placed near the Martian asteroid belt.

The promare couldn’t see him, but he could definitely see them. And they were about to enter his line of fire.

After a few more minutes of boring human bureaucracy, the buoys moved, and allowed the promare ship entry. It moved forward slowly; the almost-black shell could have passed for invisibility if it weren’t for the lovely holographic shimmer that all promare objects had. It was almost a shame, Vulcan would have liked to add a working promare ship to his collection. They were so rare.

_BAM!_

A press of the thumb and several patient seconds later, one of the wings of the ship were destroyed. Vulcan moved in. Three other ships waited a reasonable distance away; they’d have to wait their turn and play scavenger while Vulcan completed the hunt.

He scanned radio frequencies for the promare. It was always such a rush to hear his prey as he chased it. And he was in no rush; there were no patrol ships nearby, and the Parnassus wouldn’t be arriving, even at full speed, until several hours later.

Nervous tones of the aliens echoed over his intercom link. The ship tilted away, as if trying to make an escape. Their outdated freighter would be no match for his frigate, which was designed for stealth and destruction. His teeth gnashed as he followed each twist and turn of the freighter. He kept the intercom link open.

_The Boss will be pleased!_

Soon enough, he was pushing the freighter towards Mars’ atmosphere. Promare whistles and clicks and shrieks took the place of words, and Vulcan decided that was as good a time as any to deal the final blow. He popped out three warheads, and he got a perfect score when all three found their target. It was more than enough for it to get sucked into Mars’ weak gravitational pull.

The Federation had been far too stupid to allow the promare in without a special escort. All of the debating and deliberating meant that their decision, when it came down to it, was rushed. Without an escort, the promare had no defenses. It made for easy pickings.

He twisted his own ship away to avoid the slight gravitational pull of the planet. As he drew away, and the other ships began circling down, he indulged himself with a long look from one of the wing monitors as the ship’s wreckage bloomed into a mess of red, yellow, white, and black. It was always so much more satisfying to see the explosions before he turned tail and ran. Maybe that was why he didn’t get on well during his time in the armed forces. He liked chaos too much.

Murmurings and shouts could still be heard from the Federation lines, while the promare link was static. He wasn’t interested in hearing the aftermath. He was only interested in the paycheck now. There were others available to make sure the mess was cleaned up, and he wasn’t one of them.

He flicked off the intercom, and recloaked before zipping away, to the shadier corners of Federation space.

▲

Back at the Lunar Port, the Brotherhood was shocked speechless. Ignis Ex slouched forward so that his forehead rested on steepled fingers.

Burning plasma and blistering metal were the only sounds on the intercom before it crackled into silence. The entire Federation assembly was silent with terror. 

“The Fifth Element…” Guiera sounded like he was going to cry.

“We’re doomed.”


	2. Iron & Aluminum II

When the lights of his apartment flicked on, Lio Fotia groaned and smacked at the dimmer. Instead, his finger found the buttons to brighten the room even more, and his groan turned into a snarl.

He fumbled with the alarm in a similar manner, and huffed in protest when a small white cat hopped onto him and began snaking itself under his chin.

“Sweetie, not now…” 

The cat ignored him, and began kneading his chest, which was equal parts pleasant from the purring, and equal parts pain from the claws. That damn stray’s nails needed to be trimmed, but he didn’t have clippers. Would anyone get mad if he used scissors? Somehow, he had been the only one foolish enough to take the animal in, and was now saddled with caring for it, despite not knowing the first thing about cat care. He had gotten dirty glares from other occupants of the apartments last week when he chased Sweetie down the hall and carried her back by the scruff of her neck.

Couldn’t strangers trust that he was simply doing the best he could to get by? Whatever happened to human decency and trust?

Lio actually went through the motion of shrugging at the thought, and lifted his hands to set Sweetie on the cheap linoleum floor. He could either think about the philosophical dilemmas of the universe and starve, or scrounge with his usual questionable odd jobs and go to bed with a full stomach tonight. The cat glared, as if able to read his thoughts.

“We don’t have a choice, Sweetie. I’ll turn on the TV to make it up to you.”

The screen flicked on, and the cat wandered off of Lio’s chest to enjoy some visual and auditory entertainment. Lio shut his eyes, trying to squeeze in a moment more of rest. Before long, though, he was going through his mental checklist. Make bed. Coffee. Feed cat. Get dressed…

_Ring ring ring!_

Lio’s phone chimed, and he sighed when he looked at the ID.

On the TV, a young woman dressed in gaudy clothes began monologuing, while images and text about Fhloston Paradise blasted on the screen in bright colors with cheery music. The cat loved it. Lio turned down the TV volume and accepted the call with something that could never be mistaken for enthusiasm.

“Hello?”

“Lio! Glad you picked up!” 

He scowled; the oil in Old Man’s voice practically dripped through the phone’s speaker. Old Man only used Lio’s legal name if he was asking for a particularly big favor. Old Man didn’t have a first name, or at least, not a name that Lio bothered to remember from their days helping Special Forces.

“What do you have for me, Old Man?”

“Cool down, kid, what’s the rush? It’s still morning! But since you’re asking, you still have those pistols that you picked up during the good old days?”

Lio was waiting for his coffee to brew, and he absentmindedly picked at the peeling corner of a small poster he bought a couple years ago from a museum. It was some ancient god… Shiva? Nataraja? Or something… surrounded by flames, with their many limbs arranged in an elegant dance formation, and one foot lifted, about to stomp down. He’d need to find some more tape to keep it from falling off the wall. “What if I do?”

“You’ll want them… I’ve got a delivery job for you. Nothing hot, just some guys with too much cash to burn and bad attitudes. They’ve got a short delivery deadline, and I knew you’d be the best guy for the job. I’d advise you tuck those pistols somewhere close in case they decide they don’t like the way your face looks.”

“Come on, Old Man, what makes you think that’ll be a problem?” Lio always prided himself on being diplomatic, even when guns were being shoved into his cheek. If anyone was difficult to work with, it was all of the scummy clients Old Man seemed to keep tucked away in the bowels of Promepolis, not him.

Old Man wheezed; it was a rusty imitation of a laugh, and Lio could practically see him shaking his head through the phone. “If you get cut, you’ll pay your own hospital bills. This isn’t a charity.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior. Cross my heart, hope to die.” Lio drawled, holding a pinky up in the air as if taking an actual oath.

Old Man cackled, that same wheezy noise, before hissing, “I’ll send you the address. It’s a simple pick-up and drop-off. Good luck.” 

When Lio got the dossier, he whistled. It was going to be a quick and simple job, but the payload was good. He’d be able to eat well for at least a week, and maybe even be able to put a bid in for some bike parts that he’d been eyeing online. 

Building a fully functioning motorcycle in a classic Detroit style had been a dream of his for a while. He liked the look and sound of them, and strongly preferred riding solid ground over hovercars. He didn’t have much beyond a vision for a power cruiser and a mishmash of tools that he had stolen over the years, but any money for parts would be a step in the right direction. 

He typed a reminder into his phone, and went to wash the sleep from his eyes.

Before leaving the apartment, he tucked two pistols, nicknamed Miami and Dallas, into his bag, and shouldered it so that he could lock the door and get his car.

▲

Kray Foresight’s eye was twitching again.

A call made its way to his desk, and when he heard the name “Haestus,” he calmly asked his secretary to put all other calls and meetings on hold while he went out to handle a personal situation. She raised a brow, hit a few buttons on her phone, but then soon enough, went back to observing and painting her fingernails.

The Foresight Foundation was a large cog in the manufacturing mechanisms of the Earth Federation. During daylight hours, Kray Foresight was the honorable and inventive founder of the organization. With everything from plastics to medicines to space ships being produced in global warehouses, Kray kept a lot of fingers in different pies. Behind the scenes, however, Kray was significantly less honorable, but much more creative in his personal pursuits. With private investments in warp technology and military transport, Kray had a… _special_ interest in extraterrestrial weapons of mass destruction.

He was especially interested in any extraterrestrials that could themselves act as weapons of mass destruction.

He first heard theories about the evil formation beyond the asteroid belt a few years ago, when an ex-Brotherhood staffer denounced it all as scientific fluff. Curious, Kray did some digging around of his own, and became more and more familiar with the inner workings of the promare, and the people that served them. For a while, he too saw the whole thing as an overzealous interpretation of dark space and close encounters of the third kind. But then dots started connecting. Events started to coalesce. Planets moved, and both order and chaos shifted into opportunity.

If there was one thing Kray was good at, it was spotting an opportunity.

Unfortunately now, his timeline was becoming very narrow, and Captain Haestus was his best means of success. Vulcan was free to roam anywhere he wanted. At least, _almost_ anywhere; he was wanted in several Federation nations, and a few beyond the solar system at that. But he was free to fly, while Kray had appearances to maintain. He had no time to chase after star ships.

He brushed an invisible fleck of dust off of his white suit as he made his way down to the dock.

When he arrived, over a dozen burly men greeted him, and Captain Vulcan cocked a hip, and scowled. It was wise for the captain to avoid starting the conversation; Kray didn’t enjoy going straight to negotiation. It lacked tact.

“Well now, gentlemen. Glad to see everyone made it.”

One crew member, not Vulcan, got bold. “We blasted them good! Would’ve loved to see the look on the Federation’s faces, but,” he shrugged, “orders are orders.”

“It seems like we had a bit of a… misunderstanding about my orders.”

One of the other pilots took the bait. “You said destroy the promare ship! Vulcan destroyed it.”

“I said, ‘Destroy the promare ship, and _all of its contents.’_ Those contents included, and I know this because I specifically said it, four stones.”

“It’s not our fault! The Federation’s Parnassus showed up! No way we could have done anything to fight them if they found us!”

Vulcan was quiet. His squad agreed that he would shoot down the ship, and the others would fly down and torch any remains. But the Federation made that difficult with their speedy arrival to the crash site, so the rest of the pilots took the coward’s route: out. 

Vulcan had experience working with Foresight, and unlike the others, he knew the consequences of not following instructions. Kray was not a pretty sight when he was angry.

Right now, he didn’t look angry, but it was only a matter of time. The captain thought he saw a muscle near Foresight’s right eye twinge ever so slightly.

He sighed, and held his hands out in placation.

“You’re absolutely right. We don’t want the Federation catching on to what we’re doing.”

“You should at least compensate us for the risk!”

Kray turned to the audacious bounty hunter who spoke up. He was a short man, and Kray easily stood a foot over him. He tilted his head, and held up a hand with his index finger pointed up.

“Usually my business model is equal pay for equal services rendered. Zero stones…” he cut the air with his finger as if it were a knife, “… zero crates. But I’m feeling generous today.”

The locking mechanism on a single crate clicked open, and it slid forward.

“One crate. The rest when I get the stones.”

The other pilots scurried forward, eager to handle new weaponry and lay claim to booty that was practically free. Any one of the pistols or rifles in there would pay for fuel several times over. Firearms manufactured within the Foresight Foundation were coveted bargaining tools.

The the small mob fussed with the unlocked crate. Kray turned to Vulcan, and spoke so quietly that the captain almost didn’t hear him.

“Vulcan. Are we ready to follow instructions now?”

The giant man stiffened, and he couldn’t help but stand at attention and yelp “Yes, sir!”

He crooked a finger. “Come with me. Leave your cronies to their toys.”

They walked down the hallway, away from the dock. For a while, the only sound was the sharp click of Kray’s polished shoes, and Vulcan’s heavy tactical boots, on the rough metal floor. When he decided to speak, he stopped, but didn’t turn his head to look at Vulcan. He spoke as if dictating a simple memo to his secretary.

“You will get me the stones. I’ll triple the original contract if you can deliver them to me here.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“That’s what you said when I sent you to the border to intercept the ship.”

“I blew up the promare. I did as you said. I don’t understand why these stones need to be such a big deal…”

Kray whipped his head towards his subordinate.

“Understand this.” His lips curved down. “I need those stones. You will get the stones, no matter the cost. If you mess up this simple task, you will lose much more than your crew.”

“My crew?”

Kray smiled, and tapped at a button on his watch.

Down the hall, back to the dock that they had just exited, a fiery blast filled the room, and hot air gusted out at both of them. Vulcan instinctively covered his face. Kray stood still, unfazed by the fact that he had just blown up three frigates, several containers of hidden explosives, and twenty men.

A single tire, and various flecks of paper, drifted down the hall before falling pathetically to the ground in a mix of smoke and ash.

Kray gave an extra five seconds to let the spectacle burn itself out. Sirens and fire sprinklers were set off, but he ignored them. Others would be here to clean up the mess soon enough. And he had made his point perfectly clear.

“Don’t disappoint me again, Vulcan.”

He turned on his heel, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing but I hope I'm doing it well. The Promare bug bit me bad... also, I don't use a beta, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Give me a holler on here or Twitter (AdastraBeth)!


	3. Uh, METI, We've Had A Problem...

When the recovery crew of the Parnassus returned onboard after scouring the promare wreckage from Mars, a single glove, sharp and glossy like polished obsidian, returned with them.

During retreat, the Parnassus was able to accelerate its trip home while using the pull of Saturn and Jupiter. After jumping the asteroid belt, they found the promare ship in ruins, and the Federation in an uproar about four rogue ships blasting it out of the skies.

Colossus knew that the Parnassus was the most powerful ship in the solar system, and despite the morning’s failures, chasing out the scavengers would be a simple, if small, step towards redemption. Sending a team down to recover any materials that could be salvaged was simply a bonus.

It was an unfortunate truth that most materials created by the promare, including promare themselves, were highly combustible. Promare bodies, suits, technology, and artifacts rarely lasted long beyond death. Tales of crashed promare ships were the root of more than one first contact fable on multiple homeworlds. Considering how suits usually dissolved with the bodies upon death, it was a miracle of its own that anything had been left behind. One technician claimed the case, which was untraceable in age or provenance, was part of the reason the glove was in such good condition.

Large and tightened into a sort of fist, the glove sat nestled in the shattered remains of a massive case. It was not unlike a rabbit’s paw sitting inside a looted sarcophagus.

It earned an eerie quiet from anyone that took the time to look, and count the three fingers curled tightly together.

▲

As the sun set over Promepolis, chaos gripped the heart of the city’s Nucleolab.

The Nucleolab was a hub for genetic research and organic printing, and more recently, the destination of the mysterious gauntlet recovered on Mars. With direct approval from the President and the Brotherhood, the salvage was going to be prepared for resuscitation. Unlike humans, the promare contained exponentially more genetic material to choose from, thus making resurrection and cloning a simple matter. The single gauntlet likely held more coding than an entire Earthen family line. Such rich material required all Nucleolab staff to drop _all_ of their projects to reprioritize the new arrival.

Because the matter was a bit urgent, Biar Colossus was instructed to accompany the gauntlet to the Nucleolab. As much as the Brotherhood wanted to be present for the growing and birthing of a promare specimen, they were kept behind with Ignis at the Lunar Port. Too many people had too many questions, and now the Brotherhood was a viable source of critical information. Varys chalked it up to being a “good problem” to be so suddenly popular, while Guiera griped and groused.

And Heris Ardebit, a lieutenant general and ever the doubter, was promptly made available on Earth to receive the gauntlet, and listen while the Nucleolab director, a nervous man with brown hair tied back in a poorly-cut ponytail, explained how the promare were, for lack of a better term, genetically perfect.

Heris’ specialty was in warp mechanics and warships, so this was all a bit over her head. But the prospect of seeing an alien being grown in a hothouse was enough to tempt even the most unsure of believers. She was even willing to stay through the late hours of the night to see this gauntlet shape itself into one of the mysterious promare.

Promare were infamous for their private nature. Alongside their refusal to join forces with the younger alliances of the galaxy and encasing themselves in black armored suits that dissolved with their bodies after death, they kept their true forms hidden away at all times. Descriptions of the promare were rooted in long-range scans and theories.

Heris couldn’t resist taking a peek.

And then General Colossus, queen of all that was ostentatious, decided to crash in with her prize. Heris had butted heads with her before, and by the looks of things here, it was about to happen again. She wasn’t exactly in Ignis’ good graces right now, and if Heris had to hazard a guess, the woman was here to lick her wounds and find a creature smaller than herself to pick on.

It made her a prime target.

Of course, where Biar was direct and crass, Heris was analytic and snide.

“Colossus. We weren’t expecting you.”

“I had to make sure delivery of the promare remains went smoothly. Several ships were seen near Mars, and jumped into slipspace before we could scan them. It looks like there are others that are interested in this little… science project. I got tired of waiting on the bridge, so I decided to see what all the fuss was about.” As she spoke, she dangled a multifaceted key card in front of Heris.

Frowning, she saw that the card was high clearance. The Nucleolab director mentioned someone would need an access card to oversee the reanimation, but it looked like he was just as surprised as Heris that Biar had it. Heris felt a bit bitter that she wouldn’t be running things for the evening.

She stayed quiet, and adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. The director attempted to make the room less frosty.

“Then… welcome aboard! We’ll begin with scanning, and then start growing the bones and the brain… If building the nerves goes well, we can move on to organs and muscles…” Caught up in his own agenda, the man began focusing his attention on the task at hand, and left the two women to their own devices. All of them walked down from the reception dock to the operating rooms.

“How’s the family? Isn’t your sister a… flight stewardess?” Biar used the job title casually enough to imply that it was an insult. Heris was tempted to rise for the bait.

“My sister is just fine. Actually, she got certified to pilot several classes of commercial ships just last month. And she’s been volunteering for a fire station. Maybe I’ll encourage her to apply to pilot one of your warbirds… If you get to fly them anytime soon.”

Biar chuckled. “That’ll be the day.”

Further pleasentries were put on hold; the director ushered everyone to the entrance of the main operating room. Everyone had to decontaminate, and the staff began wrapping flimsy operating robes on, and snapping rubber gloves so that the equipment wouldn’t get dirty.

The promare glove, with all the revenance of a holy relic, was rolled in by a team of six staff members.

The gauntlet was gingerly placed in a massive capsule. Within the casing, there were several mechanical arms, light bulbs, and other sinister looking pieces of medical equipment. Biar and Heris kept themselves close to the director, who stationed himself at the main console. It kept them out of everyone’s way, but they could still find some order out of the chaos. Here there was an aide doing preliminary checks on a set of needles on an operating arm. There another person hooking several tubes into the base of the capsule. Cleaning chemicals being set here, a vat of proteins and acids rolling there.

Biar stayed conspicuously close to a key card slot on the main console, next to a button that said TERMINATE. Having special access meant she had special privileges, and one of those privileges was to kill the project immediately if it got out of hand.

The director tried to explain things as they happened, but more often than not, Biar and Heris had to ask for clarification.

“We’ll have to put it through the cellular hygiene detector.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want other organic matter mixed in. The turbine won’t know the difference between regrowing a whole alien body and a leaf of lettuce. Can’t have two living things get mixed together in there. Chimeras are still illegal to grow.” He wore a sickly smile.

Heris shivered.

When a series of scans finished, and the charred gauntlet passed through without issue, the Nucleolab was ready to begin.

“We’ll start with the bones and brain. Those are the most important to get right.”

“Will it be able to… you know… talk? Breathe? Move around and walk?”

The director tapped his chin in thought. “It should be fine. Whatever wore this thing was a fully developed adult and had over 5,000 years of experience living. But it was promare. So there might be some trouble acclimating to solid organs. But the turbine and my crew are perfectly prepped for that.” He patted the console lovingly. “Honestly… if there were any problems with reanimating, it would be that this fellow has no concept of human culture or human mannerisms. He’ll know how to survive, but not how to interact.”

Biar scoffed. “Sounds like a freak of nature.”

He grinned. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

▲

It was nearly two hours before the turbine was powered up. So many bits and pieces were cleaned, checked, double checked, moved, and then checked again that both Biar and Heris gave up trying to track what was intended for what operation.

When the turbine began printing out the bones, it was well past a reasonable bedtime. Heris marveled that, without all the muscles and skin and organs and hair, skeletons made people look so small and spindly. As the brain matter was printed and inscribed, staff had to stop and restart the machine constantly. The project would be worthless if the promare was found to be brain dead or unresponsive. A variety of scanners, pincers, and needles whirred around to accommodate all of the material that needed to be assembled within the skull.

Despite the serious nature of the process, the director stayed cheery.

“You cleared our labs completely of viable stem cells. They’re all coming out of cold storage for building the muscles and organs. This guy won’t come cheap.”

“Charge it to the credit card.” Heris said, grinning.

“Oh! They’re starting on the muscles!” the director cried.

“Muscles?”

Various sacs and organs began growing like fruit, and the macabre dance of the muscle needles continued, weaving everything together in a neat little package. Staff members kept coming up to the capsule to track progress, however, and every time they cleared away, a little bit more was added to the body, and more and more, the promare began to form in the shape of a human body.

A couple hours of knitting passed, and then a large metal screen slid over the capsule.

“What’s going on?” Biar nervously fingered her access card, inching closer to the TERMINATE button.

“Pigment reconstruction.” He took a tone as if to say “As if it could be anything else!”

Heris frowned.“What does… that entail?”

“A simple series of UV blasts to speed up the formation of the integumentary system.”

Both of them stared.

“The skin! We’re growing the _skin_ right now!” Biar wrinkled her nose and made a sound of disgust. Heris visibly flinched.

An overhead system announced a thirty-minute countdown, and Biar decided to sit down in a nearby chair. She fidgeted with her access badge again.

▲

“How’s the hair growing?”

An aide fiddled with their controls, and shrugged helplessly.

“Keratin and sulphur deposits look fine. We had some trouble getting the lipids to bond, but a little copper sulfate went a long way in fixing things. I guess the promare really like the stuff.”

The UV light’s countdown timer buzzed, and Heris and Biar both stood. Curiosity was getting the better of them. This was the moment they were waiting for. The big reveal of a promare made mortal.

The screen slid back, and a new crew of surgeons and scientists began tinkering with controls across the room. A new shift meant that the first phase was a success, and that it must be morning already.

To the generals’ disappointment, the so-called Fifth Element formed itself into something that was quite human. To everyone’s delight, however, the Fifth Element was quite male.

The director laughed. “The hair! It’s like a Cherenkov reaction! Amazing!” He began tinkering with several screens. “…Never would have guessed. But it’s perfect…”

Nobody could accuse the promare for having poor taste in designing one of their own; and the Nucleolab lived up to its ability to execute the perfect design. The capsule’s system definitely hadn’t skimped in toning him up. With shocks of cobalt blue hair and a warm complexion, he looked closer to twenty years of age than a handful of hours. His shoulders were wide, while his broad chest tapered down to a trim waist and long legs. Upon closer inspection of his face, he definitely wasn’t hard on the eyes. With a sharp jaw and straight nose, one might almost say he looked noble.

“You getting images of this?” Biar murmured to one of the aides.

“Yes ma’am! Er, sir, uh… I mean…”

She rolled her eyes, and turned back to the director.

“What’s next?”

“We wake him.” His eyes were bright with determination. Heris took the opportunity to look down at Biar’s key card, and grinned. “You can take your hand off the destruct button, now, I think.”

Biar’s knuckles were white from the grip, held at the ready for several minutes as if expecting the promare to spontaneously combust within the capsule. She shot her colleague a venomous look before pocketing her card.

The director waved for several people to change stations, and he pulled at a lever.

“Reanimate!”

Oxygen flowed into the chamber, and two small defibrillators pinched at the promare’s newly-grown ribs.

_Click. Click. BEEEEEEP!_

And just like that, after a long night of rebuilding, the Fifth Element was alive.

The mouth opened in a silent scream, and his entire body arced while newly-formed organs struggled to set a rhythm. His palms smacked and smeared along the capsule. Any sounds made were muffled by the capsule’s thick casing, but it was quickly apparent that he was _loud._ He tried to catch hold of something, and as he twisted around, everyone delighted in how bright his blue eyes were. Nobody took the time to comment on his nudity.

Biar had one of her aides snap several photos for posterity.

He continued to roll around, smacking at the plexi casing of the capsule, confused by the transparent surface, and hitting the back of his head more than once on it.

Eventually, he had pressed himself into a corner, and he finally discovered he wasn’t alone. His eyes shifted between the figures, blinking and refocusing. Heris almost felt… sorry for him. He didn’t have anyone there to explain what was going on, and even if someone could, she doubted he’d understand.

“He looks like a stray animal caught in a hole.”

The Nucleolab director scoffed, “He’s perfect!”

Biar rolled her eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time, and stepped down to observe him more closely. The Promare pressed himself tighter into the corner of the capsule, and his eyes darted around at the half dozen staff members that were surrounding him.

“He isn’t perfect.” Biar twisted around to look back at the director with one brow raised.

“What do you mean?”

“His left arm… where the gauntlet was… his whole arm is covered in scars.”

“You don’t say… hmm… well we’ll take some pictures, and then probably put him under for a few minutes for cosmetic surgery. Can’t have damaged goods when the President gets here…”

He hit a few buttons, and some sort of razor popped out, and attempted to cut the promare’s hair while he stayed pinned in his corner. The man shrieked, and swatted away at the twin set of blades as they began work on both sides of his head. The razors managed to keep the cut high and tight until they reached the crown of his head. Littered in newly-grown-and-cut hair, the man grabbed one of the buzzers, and snapped it away before throwing it across the capsule.

The director wisely retracted the other razor. Biar continued to circle the capsule and its occupant.

She gestured at one of the aides, and had them snap several pictures. The flash made him flinch, and switch to a crouch. He was starting to look less and less nervous, and more and more mad. It made Heris’ hackles stand on end.

“Colossus, I don’t think we should – “

_SMASH_

An arm snaked out of the capsule, and the promare had the aide by the collar of their shirt. They dropped their camera, and fell to the floor soon after when he bashed their head against the casing of the turbine. Gases from within the capsule mixed with the operating room, and several objects were thrown about by the depressurization.

Biar shrieked as he hit the capsule again, once, twice, thrice, to make a hole big enough for him to crawl out of. The process drew blood, and by the time his feet hit the floor, Nucleolab employees were running to and fro in terror. Heris ducked behind the main console, and cursed at herself for not having any firearms on hand. She saw Biar stumble towards the entry door, key card out. The general went down when a pressurized bottle was thrown at her, and hit her square in the back of the head.

At least the promare’s eyes were working.

Someone managed to set off the building alarm, and the room was doused in hot red light. Heris peered around the corner of the console to watch the promare as he caught his breath, hands on his knees, gasping for air. She was breathing pretty hard herself.

Three security guards, who had been knocked back by the promare’s initial escape, worked their way through the mess of broken medical equipment, with batons at the ready.

“Don’t kill him!” Heris yelled.

The promare, noticing new adversaries, reached into the capsule to drag out a particularly nasty-looking operating arm, and threw it. He narrowly missed one guard, and it smashed against the wall near Biar’s unconscious form.

He grabbed another piece of machinery, but held it in a similar manner to the guards. He flinched with every step forward they made, and lashed out when one stepped too close. He landed a single hit, but was quickly overwhelmed by them, and was howling with displeasure. He rolled onto his side, and after taking several hits, tugged at a set of power cords. One of the guards fell, his body spasming with excessive electricity as the promare jabbed the plug into his shin like a knife.

Heris had to cover her mouth to hold back another shriek.

Back on the offense, the promare grabbed a baton, and imitated the moves used by the now-fallen guard to ward off the other two. The air crackled with blue-white light, and various computer screens whined and popped from the electrical charges that caught.

One guard tripped over a fallen cart, and dropped their baton. The promare snatched this one up as well, and had both individuals unconscious with a series of poorly-placed hits.

Where were the rest of the guards? Heris looked back at the panel, and her heart sank. When the promare threw the operating arm, the door’s control panel broke, and nobody could get in, or go out. The rest of the security detail was probably pounding on the door, just outside of the operating room.

She scrambled to the other console, and with a bit of daring stretching, tugged the special clearance card out of Biar’s pocket. When she jammed it into the main console (actively avoiding the TERMINATE button; with a compromised turbine, any purges could kill them all), she was dismayed to see only one option available on the screen.

She couldn’t control the doors from here, but she could let loose several litres of nerve gas until someone on the outside was able to reopen them. Everyone in here could just take a proverbial little cat nap, cool down, and the Federation could get things back on track. It was a zero-sum game, but she was still determined to win it.

A rumbling, cracking sound echoed in the room, and Heris was shocked to see the promare smashing through the wall opposite to her.

“Stop that!”

He continued smashing, first through drywall, then through pipes and around a heavy beam. Panic gripped at her. He could not escape to the outside world without proper safety measures. Anything could happen out there…

Her heart sank when she saw little blotches of daylight appear as he dug his way out. He was moving too fast… The door wasn’t opened yet… what if someone from the outside saw him…

He stood still on the self-made ledge, and it was almost as if he were taunting them with escape.

The heavy metal of the door creaked and groaned from the outside. Gas began to fill the room. _Shit._ She made one last attempt for the promare to see reason.

Her hand hit the main console’s intercom. “You are surrounded by police. There is nowhere for you to go. The sooner you comply, the sooner we can clean up this whole mess.”

He continued staring out at the glittering expanse of Promepolis at midday. The world became a bit wobbly to Heris, and her mouth became dry as the nerve gas started to dull her mind.

“Did you hear me?! There’s nowhere you can run to now. Stand still!”

She heard the thud of heavy boots, and the screeching metal of the main door being pried open. Someone yelled, “Call in for police cruisers! He’s trying to escape!”

Heris tried to talk again into the microphone, but her mouth went slack, and a tendril of nerve gas knocked her out cold.

He took a look back at them, lifted an eyebrow, and jumped.

▲

Art by me (AdastraBeth on Twitter) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who felt particularly fond of Biar before or while reading this... uh... I'm so sorry, it's nothing personal, someone had to draw the short straw!


	4. BOOM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that this chapter contains a very short segment in which a character is solicited for implied underage sex (the character is, in fact, not underage, and the sex does not occur). The interaction may be distressing for some readers. Please exercise caution and good self-judgement while reading this chapter.
> 
> I have encased the interaction in *** for anyone who would like to skip over it without missing the rest of the story.
> 
> ▲

The job had gone just about as well as Lio could expect. A small container, probably contraband drugs or firearms, was slid into his backseat near the Upper Bay, and he delivered it to a group of five nasty looking characters without so much as a scratch. He had been tempted to make a rude joke when one of the men exclaimed that they couldn’t believe they were doing business with a kid. But ever the student to life’s experiences, Lio kept his mouth shut, because he knew that any backtalk would only mean trouble, and people tended to behave different when they heard his low voice and figured out that he was in fact _not_ a kid.

He just happened to have a pretty face.

For many years, Lio held onto the hope that he might grow out of his delicate frame, and that his wide eyes would sharpen, and that his chin would round out a little more. More than once he caught himself drunkenly wondering if he'd ever grow any taller, or how much cheap pizza he'd have to eat to gain even the littlest bit of fat around his gut.

Of course, it never did, and he was stuck with using black clothing and unpleasant words to get the point across that he didn’t like to be infantilized. He was almost twenty-three, and already tired of getting ID’ed for everything everywhere he went. He kept his edges sharp and his mind aloof, and that was enough to get by as far as he was concerned.

Even when he pulled up to his quintessential fast food haunt for a quick bite, he extended no more than the simplest of courtesies to the staff. There was no reason to get chummy with someone in the middle of the lunch rush that spoke to thousands of people a day. Garish red and yellow logos blasted the order screen as soon as he pulled up, and a disinterested voice told him to take his time with his selection.

“Two cheeseburger combo, please.”

He waited another couple minutes while the hover cars ahead of him inched along, and he caught himself toying with the earring on his left ear.

When Lio handed over his card, the waitress took it with a loud clack-clack of glossy red nails, and an offhanded "It's a hot one out there today, huh?" that seemed to be directed more at the card reader than to Lio himself. He didn't engage in her small talk.

"Declined!" the machine buzzed.

He frowned. He knew he was low on funds, but his pay should have been deposited over an hour ago.

“Try it again? Sometimes the chip gets caught.”

She gave an exasperated look, but did as he said.

Another cheery “Declined!” tone.

“One more time?” This time, Lio used his best syrupy-sweet voice and gave a tight smile.

“Declined!”

“Mmmm, no… sorry sweetie, still not working.”

He mumbled a curse, and jerked open the glove box to see if he had any loose bills or change. He found a twenty, and practically threw it out the window. The server took the money, and short-changed him by a dollar.

Lio chewed at the inside of his cheek, and gave a strained smile when his food was handed over. It usually didn’t take this long for his money to go through to his account… he didn’t want to buzz up Old Man if he didn’t have to… but a guy’s gotta eat

Lio pulled away from the restaurant, and got caught in a swirl of thoughts about overdraft fees and motorcycle parts as he made his way home. It was getting pretty hot today, and he kept his window open so that the air could lift the hairs on the back of his neck and cool off the sweat gathering there. He jabbed the cap of the soda cup with a straw. He fished out one of the two cheeseburgers in his bag, and ate it in three large, inelegant bites.

_BWAWP BWAWP!_

Several blocks away from his apartment complex, a set of blue and red lights whirred behind him. A police bike was hovering just behind his left tail light, and gesturing for him to pull over.

The day was getting better and better.

He ran through a mental check list. No way he was speeding. No drugs or weapons in the car. Scratch that. Two pistols, but they’re both strapped under the chair. No blood stains. No bullet holes. Didn’t drive through any manufacturing plants, so no banned chemicals splashed on the exterior. Money from the job was transferred electronically, no trail to him. Backseat is empty. Maybe some fast food receipts, trash. Registration was renewed two months ago.

Unpaid parking tickets?

Lio decided that question was better left unanswered.

The cop rolled forward on his hover bike, making a show of inspecting the plates and tail lights, before leaning in with a shit-eating grin.

“License and registration?”

He silently handed over his credentials. One look over of the officer told him all he needed to know; today, he was being pulled over for his charming good looks.

He kept his mouth in a firm line, even when the cop tilted his head and made a tutting sound. He had been the object of similar stares in the past, especially late at night at the bars, when other patrons were well enough into their drinks that they didn’t care if he caught them staring. They always used different words, but they all meant the same thing.

*******

_My, aren’t you pretty._

_So lovely._

_You look good enough to eat._

_I’d love to bend you in half, kiddo._

This cop had the same wolfish look. It was the sort of look that made Lio want to speed home and scour himself in soap and hot water. Even after two and a half decades, he still felt filthy when others shoved their unwanted desire on him.

The cop, who had taken the time to conveniently hide his name and badge number, spent an especially long time reading over Lio’s ID.

“You look barely legal.” He purred.

“I bet I do.” Several large buses passed by, and his retort was inaudible.

*******

“What was that?” the cop drawled.

“Nothing. What did I do?”

He made a chuffed sound. “How about we discuss that somewhere more… private?” He was wearing reflective shades, and even with the blinding chrome of the frames hiding most of his features, Lio could swear he was wiggling his eyebrows.

_Disgusting._

“I’m not interested.”

“I don’t think you’re in a place to negotiate with me.”

“I said I’m not interested.”

“Save the sass for later when I can-“

Lio reached for his soda, and dumped its contents out the window.

The drink splashed in a beautiful arc, from Lio’s shoulder, through the window, and in a perfect line along the cop’s arm so that his clean white shirt was definitively ruined. His face was covered in it, and quite a bit of the drink sprayed back onto Lio, and it made the car smell of cherry, coffee, and carbonate. He was glad he hadn’t missed. Sugar beverages and sweat didn’t mix well, especially this time of year.

“You’ll be sorry for that!” he blubbered, wiping his sleeve in a futile attempt to get the soda off of his uniform.

“I’m not sorry.” He could hardly feel the sugary drink dripping down his arm and hitting his pant leg. Survival beat dirty clothing.

The man paused; disbelief and fury stuttered his speech. “You’ll… you’ll wish you were,” he hissed. He leaned in.

Instinct drove Lio’s hand, slick with sweat and sticky with soda, to reach for the stick shift. He doubted he could afford charges like resisting arrest, but at the same time, his dignity couldn’t afford… this _filth._ His heart was pounding in his ears and his mouth felt like it was full of dust. He needed to flee. He needed to get out. He needed a damn miracle.

And it was there, covered in cheap cola, being harassed by a cop after delivering contraband and getting his card declined for fast food, that Lio Fotia was hit, quite literally, with the Fifth Element.

▲

Now, adrenaline has a way of making things slow down. And in Lio’s case, he was already an anxious mess, and was plenty full of adrenaline.

First, the cop’s eyes flicked up for the briefest instant, and his mouth opened into a stupid shape, like he was about to say something that had nothing to do with his current crusade. Then, Lio heard a _thud_ , and a metallic _screech_ that made the pit of his stomach fall through his feet. Next, he saw the cop appear as if he were floating up, and saw him bash the top of his head on the still-open window. Little globs of blood peppered out from his mouth, as if the cop had bit right through the middle of his tongue. Only then did Lio realize that something was wrong, and the fact of the matter was that nobody was floating, and instead, it was him and his car that was falling down.

Down.

Down.

Down?!

Shit, the car is falling _down_.

Even with decent safety measures, no hovercar could quickly recover from an adult human body falling into it from god-knows-where. Lio plummeted two whole driving levels before he could gain control.

When he looked in the rearview mirror, all he could see was a tangle of broken metal, blue hair, and dirty limbs. It appeared that someone had jumped off from some building, and landed on his car.

The man howled, and it took every ounce of concentration that Lio had not to swerve the car into the abyss of the no-drive thermal columns. The vehicle groaned from the newly-added weight, and limped along while hovercars whipped by on both sides, honking and screeching. The passenger was just as loud.

“Shut up! I’m trying to drive!”

There was more screaming as he took a sharp left and drifted into the correct lane. If he was going to drive, he might as well drive as far away from Officer Dickwad as possible. He swerved again, speeding through a changing light, and the stranger continued to yell.

“AAAAAAAAAAAA!”

“You’re the one who jumped in here, you idiot!”

The idiot in question made an angry sound when his face pressed into the plexiglass blocking the backseat from the front, and left a huge noseprint. He smacked his palms against the dividing screen, and continued babbling. He was also completely naked, though Lio didn’t dwell on why that was such an important detail at the moment.

Lio flicked on the dash translator, and waited while it tried to find a match. All he could do for now was keep driving steady, and avoid killing the both of them. The passenger was a big guy, rocking the proverbial boat further would only mean trouble, and Lio intended to live.

“Hirik va chatil! Chatil! ”

“I don’t understand you!”

“Namonioni! Viscso! Zhe lemini bropro – siy yeedi fuomin dagata don provonido maysa kay yitti!”

“Stop yelling!”

Lio struggled with the steering wheel as another gust of air passed, while the naked idiot continued yelling in the back seat. As his mouth ran, his hands created some sort of puppet show that Lio couldn’t bother to watch through his rearview mirror.

“Yorsoto mamo k yikit! Zhra ko no, vami belikto, no yar vrolsis! Ye VROLSIS!”

And then he said that most universal of onomatopoeias.

“BOOM!”

Boom. Now _that_ was a sound Lio understood.

He risked turning his head around to show that he understood that word. It would have to do as a starting point.

“A boom?”

The man slowed his speech, finally figuring out that his driver had found some common ground. He nodded his head vigorously, repeated a slurry of words while waving his hands, and as he said “boom” again, Lio honed in on it and interrupted with “A boom? An explosion? Boom? Hey!”

The man leaned into the backseat as if lying down, and lifted one powerful leg and began kicking at one of the windows.

“STOP THAT! You’ll break it!”

“Plavalaguna! Boom!” He sat up, and waved his hands in a gesture that vaguely resembled, “why can’t you understand me?”

Lio had no idea what sort of drugs this meathead was on, but they must have given him a good spook to get him naked, jumping off buildings, and babbling in dead languages. Naked Man, as Lio had internally decided to call him until proven otherwise, was a terrible (and terrifying) type of passenger to pick up.

He just wished his in-car translator could pick up whatever yuppie slang he was using so that he could unload him at the nearest hospital, prison, or psychiatric ward and minimize further damage to his car.

And then, of course, the police sirens arrived.

Lio didn’t bother entertaining the hope that they were simply passing through.

“Please pull over. You have an unauthorized passenger in your vehicle.”

There were five cars, and Lio supposed it should have terrified him to know they sent that many for one naked person. Honestly, he was just relieved that they weren’t there for him. He slowed the hovercar, and it limped to an empty spot further away from traffic.

His passenger had no comment on the situation.

“Is that your ride?” Lio asked. For how loud the idiot had been earlier, this new tight-lipped version was a bit unsettling. He was grimacing and watching the police cars with unabashed animosity.

The siren continued to blare. “Please put your vehicle in park and put your hands on the wheel. We are arresting the individual in your car.”

Naked Man was curled tight against the seat with something akin to fear in his eyes, and it made Lio’s gut roil. He had no idea what the man had done, but someone had to act calm and responsible in this whole mess. He swallowed, and hissed, “It’s best to cooperate. Don’t make them mad.”

The passenger’s mouth wobbled and emitted a pitiful groan. Probably a _No Way_.

Lio shifted his car into park, and struggled to keep his hands from shaking when he placed them on the wheel. It felt like his lunch, as little as it was, would reappear at any moment.

The car lurched, and the police began clipping pincers to the car so that they could pry the door open.

The sound made Lio’s hair stand on end. He was sick with fear, and delirious with rage. He hated driving, but it paid the bills. How on earth would Old Man get him another job if he heard about this? He didn’t think the car could take another daring escape, accidental or otherwise. He’d have to scrap the car, give up the bids for bike parts, and who knew what else to cover the fines. Dammit, this was all screwed. Dammit, dammit, _dammit._

Without thinking, he found his hand slipping to the pistol tucked under his seat. Why the hell not? It wasn’t like he was prepared to make a last stand. There was just something about a defenseless guy in a beat-up box of metal being ganged up on by a bunch of cops that just made his blood boil. His pistols, at least, would give them a fighting chance.

Certain that the cops were focusing their attention on hooking themselves to his car, he lightly ran his fingers over the magazine to make sure it was loaded and that the safety was off. He pressed a button on the dash, and the dividing window between him and the backseat dropped down. If Naked Man weren’t so… idiotic, he might have considered passing the twin pistol to him while they waited. But Lio had a sneaking suspicion that putting a gun in his hands would take them from the frying pan to the fire. Did he even know what a gun was?

A hand came towards the door, gloved and wrapped around a large hook. The hook was grimy with old grease, and Lio held his breath, waiting for a CLINK of contact. He just needed the door open…

And then both the hand and the hook were gone. A spray of water blasted the side of the car, and to his great amazement, the cop car was gone too. A roaring sound filled the air.

A nearby sewage line, and a considerable one at that, had burst. The happy blue-painted metal of the pipe was slit open, and bent as if it was cheap tin.

Naked Man was grinning, and broke into a loud but cheerful guffaw.

Lio stared.

His strange passenger seemed to pick up on his confusion, and gestured with his hands between the car, the broken pipe, and the empty space where the cop car had been before. He grinned, and used his index fingers to point at the temples of his forehead. When Lio’s expression didn’t change, he shifted a bit, and waved a hand, and another pipe snapped open, as if the man had simply flicked his fingers, and the tiny motion had been responsible for the explosion.

Lio felt dizzy.

He couldn’t keep up with this insanity.

Not only was the idiot, who’d definitely totaled his car at this point, naked and unable to speak any common tongue, but he also had magic powers now. Totally reasonable. Right. Lio could definitely work with this.

Of course, all he had to do was think about Officer Sleazeball, shudder a bit, and count his blessings. At least this guy wasn’t asking for _that_ sort of trouble. He just looked like he was trying to get out of it.

Lio was familiar with that feeling.

He unclipped his seat belt, and tucked the pistol back under his seat before twisting fully so that he was face to face with Naked Man.

“Who the hell are you?”

Their eyes met, and Lio felt his pulse quicken. Bright and crystalline blue, Naked Man had a glint of something, something burning and brilliant and otherworldly in his eyes. It felt like he could look directly into this guy’s soul, and in turn, that this guy could look directly into his as well.

And then a loud grumbling not unlike an empty stomach interrupted them both.

Lio very deliberately kept his eyes up.

“Uh… When was the last time you ate?” he asked, knowing full well that he wouldn’t get an answer.

Naked Man poked at his stomach with unmasked curiosity.

Somewhere below, several levels down, an ambulance siren blared. Lio cursed, and whipped around, and put the car back in drive so that they could get away. They needed to go somewhere quiet, before more cops arrived, so that Lio could figure out what the hell was going on.

The car drifted around, and Lio turned into traffic going east and away from the chaos. He had no idea how many lunch breaks they had just disrupted, but now that he wasn’t driving like a madman, he was able to occasionally look in the rearview at his passenger. The guy was looking back and forth at all of the traffic passing, as if he had completely forgotten about the shenanigans he caused earlier. And he didn’t bother speaking. It didn’t look like he knew any common languages, and wasn't showing any interest in learning any new ones today.

Where was this guy from, and why was he in such hot water with the law?

Lio supposed, despite the destruction of the car, the least he could do was feed the guy that got him out of a sticky situation. After digging through some debris that had made its way to the front, he found that the fries held up well enough, even if they had scattered over the seat, and the second cheeseburger was still in its wrapper.

He took the burger, and handed it to his passenger. As soon as Naked Man held it, Lio pantomimed holding the burger and biting into it.

“Eat it. Won’t do any good sitting on the floor of my car.”

The food was peeled out of its wrapper carefully. Did this guy know what a _burger_ was?

Lio glanced up, checking to make sure nobody had followed them. He let out a sigh.

The guy bit into the burger, and made what could pass for a happy noise. Lio grinned.

“Glad I could help out.”

“Mrphbrg?” Naked Man tried to speak through his food. Lio couldn’t help but laugh. He felt shaky and tired from all the excitement. He crossed his arms on the opened divider between his seat and the backseat, and rested his chin on his forearm.

“Thanks… I think. You might have ruined my life more than you helped, but thanks for uh… showing up when you did.”

Uncomprehending, Naked Man grinned, and bit into his burger.

They shared a few minutes of companionable silence, while Lio tried to compose himself and come up with a plan. Half of him was covered in dried soda, and he still felt a bit faint. Naked Guy seemed unfazed, despite being covered in several large cuts, and a mix of smudges and smears hiding bruises that would form later. He also noticed that the guy had several scars on his left arm, stretching from shoulder to wrist. Lio didn’t know of any gangs that marked their members that way, but he didn’t rule that possibility out. He still had no idea what language the guy spoke, or where he needed to be. And Naked Guy had no way to tell him what he needed.

The first stop would probably have to be clothes. They couldn’t go around Promepolis half-naked.

As Naked Guy went in for another bite of food, the burger and wrapper slipped out of his hands. Confused, he leaned down to try and pick up his food, but it slipped again. Lio looked at his hands, and saw that there was a tremor to his fingers, and his skin had a pale, clammy color. Lio squinted. Was he in shock? His breathing was still uneven, and he looked pretty sweaty…

“Oh god, you’re bleeding!” He pointed to his forehead, where a thick streak of blood was dribbling down and onto his eyebrow.

The man touched his temple, as if only just now realizing he was bleeding. His eyes went wide, and when he looked back up, Lio could tell he was truly and utterly confused, and most definitely in shock. He leaned over the divider, and scrounged for a napkin or piece of paper that he could use to wipe his face. A few old receipts scattered like leaves on the wind.

One piece of paper floated onto Naked Guy’s lap, and he managed to pick it up.

And then, as quickly as he had fallen into the car in the first place, he was shrieking and pointing at the paper..

Lio looked at the image. No, he snatched it when the idiot wouldn’t stop waving and covering the label with his finger. He couldn’t continue this line of communication if he wanted to keep his sense of hearing.

He uncrumpled the small scrap. It was black and white, cheap paper that was already well-faded. Lio had a bit of a bad habit of using the back seats as his trash can; everything from stickers to receipts to business cards found their way into the car. Lio was too lazy to clear out the debris, since he technically wasn’t a taxi, and didn’t drive people around very often. Besides, it kept up a good impression when he was out and about, so that people wouldn’t be suspicious of him driving in the darker parts of Promepolis.

This paper looked like an evangelical brochure (or, at least, what was left of one), with an odd image of a triangle imposed over four squares. It was designed in a set of four, where four sets of lines were tilted at slightly different angles, and each angle focused on different bits. Here a sqiggle, there a series of jagged chevron lines, there a sharp little angle.

Naked Man’s eyes were wide and bright, a sure sign he understood the symbol. He was looking at him and that scrap of paper with a fierce determination that almost, _almost_ made Lio feel like they were moving in a better direction.

And then the low gas light went off on the dash, and Naked Guy fainted dead away.

Lio cursed, and started typing into the search bar on his phone.


	5. Uninvited Guests

Bitter with defeat on multiple fronts, the four Brothers sulked at their home base in Promepolis.

Yesterday, they watched the promare ship crash and burn on Mars. They were doomed

Then they were told a gauntlet had been recovered, and that it could be viable. Hope returned.

Then they were delayed on the Lunar Port and were forced to wait for a later flight back before meeting the Fifth Element. Doom again.

Then the Fifth Element was reanimated. Hope again.

And then it escaped, with no trace to be found after diving off the top floor of the Nucleolab. Doom, doom, doom.

The Brotherhood was fighting a losing battle.

None of them had even had the chance to _see_ the promare after reanimation. All of the photographs and scans were now classified, the Nucleolab was on military lockdown, and after being told that the fellow jumped off of a fiftieth level floor, they doubted he was still alive. Police were dispatched, but no reports were returned, and no body was found.

Sour only touched the tip of the iceberg of the shared mood between the four men. Even Remi and Guiera found a sort of unspoken truce, and didn’t bother with arguing the whole way home.

When they returned to Promepolis, they traded their outfits in for more casual clothes. Soon after, the fridge was raided, and the tables of the parlor littered with beer and chips. They agreed that moping required baggy, soft clothing, and lots of junk food; and if the world was going to end, they might as well be comfortable and well-fed.

“We still have a week.” Varys mumbled to no one in particular.

“Plenty of time to spend whatever money you have left.” Meis groaned as he dropped to the couch, and cracked open a beer. Gueira and Remi each took a can, and grimly saluted each other.

“Here’s to the end of the world.”

They all took their drinks in silence.

_BZZZZZT!_

The doorbell went off, and they looked at each other. Who the hell was knocking on their door on a weekday afternoon?

Guiera wiped his mouth and went to the door.

“Uhhhh…”

Two men were at the door, and it looked like they had been dragged to hell and back. One was unconscious, the other carried him, and Guiera stared with bug eyes.

“I need a priest.”

The small blonde man looked bad enough with his scowl, but the other was… something else entirely. He was more naked than not, his hair was some sort of half-finished mohawk buzzcut, and he was covered with soot, or oil, or some other grimy filth that also likely included blood. A jacket, far too small to belong to anyone but the cranky man carrying him, was tied around his waist.

Party dregs had rolled up to their building before, asking for everything from drugs to bibles, but this took the cake. Guiera scratched his head while staring down at the pair.

“We’re… uh… not that type of priesthood, sir. We don’t officiate.”

“ _What_.”

The little man had the nerve to sound offended, and Varys shouldered his way forward. It wasn’t the first time they had been forced to kick someone off their doorstep. Guiera cracked his knuckles, and only then, did the stranger realize that his attitude wasn’t helping his case. His eyes went wide, and he frantically looked about.

“No! No, no no! You don’t understand! This guy… he needs your help!”

“He looks like he needs a hospital.” Remi said dryly.

He fumbled for something in his jacket pocket. The larger man, mostly slung over his shoulder, started sliding down, and he yelped while awkwardly adjusting the weight.

“Just…. Here! He saw this and said he needed your help!”

“What is it?” Meis frowned.

He held the paper scrap, emblazoned with a symbol of the Brotherhood. His voice lowered. “He kept pointing at this.”

“People see lots of things when they look at that,” Guiera jabbed his thumb up, “Varys here looks at McDonalds logos all day but that doesn’t mean he thinks they’ll solve all his problems.”

“That was rude.”

“Oh hush.”

“Hey!” The stranger was getting loud again. “We’re uninvited guests. I get it. But this guy…” he shifted so that the weight on his shoulder wouldn’t drag him down. “He fell in my car. It must have been an accident. I think he’s looking for you. Or one of your kind.”

“Who’d he ask for?”

“I… I don’t know. He speaks a language I’m not familiar with.”

“So how do you know he needs us?”

“Like I said, he saw this symbol and wouldn’t shut up when he saw it.”

Guiera crossed his arms. “So we’re back to where we started.”

“You aren’t listening! He can –“

“Listen, _kid,_ ” Remi hissed, “it sounds like you just picked up a guy on a bad trip. I can give you fare to the nearest hospital. I recommend you drop him, and get on with your – WHAT IN THE – “

As he spoke, Lio took his companion’s arm, and twisted it into a painful angle. It seemed like even in his state of unconsciousness, he felt it, and let out a roaring noise, and fire gushed from his hands and mouth.

Remi’s sleeve was singed, and between the group of six, the smell of smoke and burnt plastic filled the air.

“Please just let us in for a few minutes.”

“Did he do that… before you came here?” Guiera asked, slow and cautious about what he had just seen. He attempted to peek around the pair, as if expecting a flamethrower to be taped to the stranger’s back.

“Something like it. Last time he made a sewer line burst. We had a couple cars chasing us.”

“Bada Boom…” the stranger slurred. Lio groaned, and tried to smack his cheek a couple times.

“Wake up! Ugh! Quit slobbering! Do that thing again… or do your talking again!” _Smack_ “Come!” _Smack_ “On!”

“Big… Bada… _Boom_ …. He slurred, tapping his own shoulder before slipping back into his original state.

“Poor dude…” Varys supplied upon hearing Naked Man talk.

“Look!” Meis pointed at the naked man’s shoulder.

What appeared to be burn scars turned out to form a faint design that wasn’t terribly different from the symbols on Lio’s piece of paper. Rather than scars or a rash, closer inspection revealed that the marks were a series of triangles of all sizes, swirling into a formation that only resembled a scar at a glance. Looking closer, you could see a design that wasn’t terribly unlike the lines and triangle symbolizing the Brotherhood.

Remi pushed his glasses up his nose. Meis tapped his shoulder, hissing, “Remi. You don’t think…”

“I think so.”

As if a switch had been flipped, all of them bustled to relieve Lio of his strange cargo. Varys, being the biggest, was able to carry him easily, but that didn’t stop Meis or Guiera from trying to butt in and get their share of being helpful. Remi stood with Lio, and gestured for him to follow inside.

“You best come in. If he’s who we think he is, we’ll want to talk behind closed doors.”

“Thanks. Oh, and… Remi, is it?”

Lio paused after he heard the front door slide shut. He glared at his host, and cocked his hip so that there was no mistaking that there was a pistol holstered within easy reach.

“Don’t ever call me kid again.”

▲

Lio didn’t know how it was possible, but an hour with the priests left him with more questions than answers.

Upon being ushered in, both Remi and Varys gave the stranger first aid. They laid the man on his back on the floor, and set a pillow under his feet. One checked his breathing and heart rate, while the other worked to bandage his larger cuts and bruises. Lio sat in one of the nearby chairs.

“I think he was in shock. He was confused, couldn’t communicate with me, and had trouble holding a burger when he tried to eat…” Lio offered as he passed Remi another roll of gauze.

“He’s promare,” Varys said, as if that meant anything.

“Promare?”

“An ancient race of aliens. This one was rescued from Mars, and was given a human body.”

“I’m guessing they don’t speak… any normal languages.”

The priests laughed. “You could say something like that.”

Lio furrowed his brows, but let the matter rest. The fellow with the long hair, Meis Something-Or-Other, came into the room with a pile of clothing.

“I had to dig into Varys’ old clothes, I think this guy is too big to fit into Remi’s things.”

“We can put an order in for clothes that fit and have it delivered tonight.” Remi switched away from nursing to typing relentlessly on a tablet. In the mean time, Naked Guy was slipped into a pair of baggy sweatpants and a shirt touted as too-small-for-Varys-but-definitely-too-big-for-him. Guiera didn’t fail to make the observation out loud while Meis struggled with getting an arm through a sleeve.

Just as Lio began to feel particularly unhelpful, the largest of the priests called out.

“What was your name again?”

“Lio.” He felt a bit out of his element, and his current mood didn’t mesh with the boisterous nature of the group. He volunteered only his first name to keep things simple.

“Okay, Lio. Tea or coffee?”

Lio stared up at Varys, who was standing nearby and holding a set of mugs that looked comically small in his large hands.

“Uh… tea?”

The large man nodded, and set a kettle on a burner.

And of course that was when a little voice came into his head, and it itched and worried at him, like a painfully ingrown hair that cut and coiled within itself.

_This is wrong. You’re being trapped. Something is wrong. You gotta run._

He hadn’t heard that little voice in several years. Not since he left Detroit.

Why the hell did it have to make an appearance now? Was it because he had been flagged down by a cop? Was it the alien falling into his car? Was it the domesticity of the Brotherhood? Did he only hear the voice of self preservation now because he actually had _time_ to think?

Already-frayed edges started to unravel further, and he needed a moment to collect himself. He squeezed his hands into sweaty fists, and slowly stood.

“Where’s your restroom?”

“Down the hall.” Varys pointed without looking up from the food he was preparing.

Lio wandered down the hall, and took care of business. When he glanced up from washing his hands, he saw that he looked a little more than worse for wear. He had an unflattering streak of something oily across his left cheek, and his hair stuck out in every direction. If he squinted, he could also see a light coating of dust and dirt on his black jacket and shirt. Damn. Leather, even in the form of extra small vests, didn’t come cheap. He leaned down to splash some lukewarm water on his face, and began massaging his temples, and wondered for the shortest instance if he was simply having a bad dream.

A yell, a thud, and the sound of something suspiciously glassy breaking tore him away from his alone time.

He scrambled down the hallway while he struggled with the last belt buckle in his ensemble.

It sounded like Naked Guy was awake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, apologies, but I've been shockingly busy this past week!


	6. Ga-Lo-Thy-Mos

Meis and Guiera were crouched behind the couch closest to Lio. They gestured for him to take cover, and he dropped down to squeeze into the sliver of space between them.

Remi and Varys were likely nearby, but out of sight.

Naked Guy, no longer naked, was standing in the middle of the room, and holding a broom like a baseball bat. He was turned away, watching hovercars whizz by out the main window, and remained unaware of Lio’s presence. The remains of what might have been a vase decorated the floor around him.

At least that explained who was responsible for the noise.

“He’s not being very cooperative!” Varys shouted from somewhere across the room. His voice was slightly nasal, as if he were holding his hand to his mouth and nose. Lio peeked over the back of the couch. He was impressed that a guy as big as Varys could hide behind anything in general.

Naked Guy swung around and scowled as if he were losing a particularly unfair game of hide and seek.

Lio decided, against his better judgement, to grab a book that was sitting nearby, and lob it at Naked Guy. It hit him square in the head. He yowled before mumbling something, and Lio hissed, “Do any of you understand what he’s saying?”

“Remi’s the best one for this sort of thing. He was always the bookish type.”

“Remi!” Lio ignored Meis trying to shush him. “I’m going to try to get him to talk now that he’s awake! See if you can understand him, and tell him you don’t want to hurt him!”

“What makes you think he won’t hit you?” came a response from a chair opposite in the room.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

There was a pause as the priest thought it over.

“Fine! But if he breaks your nose, that’s your problem! He landed a good one on Varys.”

Wasting no time, Lio hoisted himself up. Naked Guy had wandered close enough that he could easily hit his rescuer with the broom, and Lio prayed that he didn’t wind up for a swing. He was gripping another (smaller) book in his hand and was prepared to throw it.

“Hey! Bada Boom!”

The muscle-bound idiot whirled around, and slipped on the hem of his oversized pants. He ran out a string of unhappy words that Lio was willing to bet were not intended for polite company.

“Hey! Sleeping Beauty, mind if you put down the weapon?”

Naked Guy shot up, and began jabbering again.

“Remi, any idea what he’s trying to tell us?”

“Not yet!”

“You’re supposed to understand what he’s saying!”

“He’s talking too fast!”

Lio rolled his eyes, and began waving his arms. “Hey! Hey, big guy! Bada Boom, remember? Bada Boom!”

Naked Guy’s eyes lit up, and his mouth opened in a lopsided grin. He dropped the makeshift spear, and yelled, “Big Bada Boom!”

Lio’s mouth twisted in an awkward shape to hold back a laugh. The others began to peek their heads over their respective hiding places. “Yeah. That’s right. Bada Boom.”

“Bada Boom!” He cheerfully said while looking at Lio, before scowling at the others.

If anyone were to accuse Lio of smiling in that moment, he would have punched them in the mouth.

Lio spoke slowly, keeping his hands open and in front of him, while he tried to show that these men were part of the Brotherhood. “It’s okay, these guys are our friends.” He lowered his voice and hissed, “Where is that scrap of paper I had?”

They fumbled around, and passed it to Lio.

“See? We found the Brotherhood. These guys are here to help.”

Naked Guy’s eyes flicked over the group, back to the paper, back to them, then to Lio. After a moment of deliberation, he exhaled, and sat down cross-legged on the floor.

Remi stepped forward, and started to recite something in what Lio could only assume was the language that they needed to understand this guy. He grinned, and a river of words flowed out. Remi stammered, and held out his hands, and tried to say something along the lines of “Slow Down!”

▲

For a few minutes, everyone watched the two, and the other Brothers occasionally chimed in for certain phrases. Lio felt his ears get hot when Naked Guy gestured at him several times, and made gestures like driving a car, and another hand motion that looked suspiciously similar to holding a gun. Remi and him continued talking for a while, and Lio settled in with the knowledge that it would likely be a while before he’d get any more questions answered.

Guiera went to the nearby kitchen, and began heating some water, the original pot of hot water lost in the chaos of their guest waking up. Lio assumed that this meant most of the tension had left, and he sagged into one of the couch cushions and began pestering them with a few questions so that he didn’t have to sit around awkwardly in silence. Guiera and Meis were willing enough to talk about the promare, and provide occasional snippets of what Naked Guy was saying.

They explained that not only was this idiot a promare, but he was a promare representative sent on a mission to protect Earth from some sort of evil. The priests could somewhat understand him when he spoke his strange gibberish language, but it seemed that there were several gaps in what they could say and understand between each other. It was an improvement from Lio’s communication skills, but not by much.

Guiera snickered when, apparently, the stranger waved off Remi and complained that his promare was too formal, and he’d just learn the current languages himself. Varys offered an old computer system with language software as a gift. Naked Guy didn’t seem to enjoy the noises of the computer booting up, but soon enough, was drawn in by the brightly-colored screen and an exponentially sped-up program on Earth Federation languages. Varys claimed with such little time, anything would help to defeat the “evil.”

“What sort of evil?” Lio asked innocently while dropping sugar into his black tea.

Meis shrugged. Varys shook his head. Remi was busy helping their new promare friend, and Guiera frowned at the question.

“We don’t really know. They never got a chance to elaborate; when Deus Prometh made contact, they were in a rush and didn’t really explain the details. But whatever it is, it’s big, and powerful enough to destroy whole planets.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Bada boooooooom…” the stranger hummed to himself, headphones covering his ears and leaving him oblivious to the conversation. Lio only found it a little ironic that it was the one phrase that the two of them had found commonality in before coming here. He wondered if the “evil” was the Bada Boom that the promare had been trying to describe.

For the next few minutes, the quartet explained their work, and how they had trained under a long line of priests called to this role, to wait for this exact moment. They mentioned a temple, and the so-called sacred language of the Promare. Guiera pointed a finger at an invisible point that sat beyond the confines of the house.

“The original temple that Deus Prometh discovered is really close to here, actually! It’s out west, up and into the mountains a little bit. Real nice in the summer.”

“A temple?”

“If you want to call it that. Looks more like an abandoned lab, if you ask me. The promare used it to store the elements.”

Meis cut in. “When Prometh uncovered it, the promare came and removed all five elements for a safer place. The fifth was being kept in a large stone case, and almost all of it was destroyed in an attack yesterday.”

“And they found… him in it?” Lio tilted his head.

“Not exactly. There was… armor. A hand and part of an arm. We sent it to the Nucleolab, and… well..." He pointed at their guest. "They created _that_ with what was left.”

“Impressive.” The word felt paltry in Lio’s mouth.

Guiera looked over at their promare guest, and rubbed his chin in thought.

“I wonder if the Fifth Element remembers anything from before yesterday…”

A loud gurgling sound filled the quiet of the space, and all eyes turned on Naked Guy. He poked at his stomach and turned to Lio and pointed at his mouth.

“He’s hungry.”

“No duh, genius!”

Several microwave packets were thrown into a machine, and a veritable feast of chicken, pasta, vegetables, pizza, and breads started to surround him. The food disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared.

Lio wasn’t sure if his expression was one of curiosity or horror.

“When will you be able to talk more to him?”

Varys shrugged, rubbed at the bandage on his nose, and heated up more food. “Whenever he decides that it’s the right time.”

Lio spent the next hour dodging questions about himself. He cordially said he was from Detroit. That he was doing odd jobs to pay the bills. He had a cat. Naked Guy fell in his car this afternoon. No, he didn't think his car was salvageable. He went through two full cups of tea as a result of all the nervous sipping he did to punctuate his answers.

Guiera chuckled after hearing about the promare’s struggle with figuring out a hamburger wrapper.

“He sounds kinda dumb. Do you think he’s considered stupid by promare standards?”

“I sure hope he isn’t!” Meis hissed. “And stop that! He could understand what you’re saying right now!”

“I’m not afraid of a little broken nose. If Varys could take it, then so can I!” He held up a fist to show his determination, and Varys rolled his eyes.

Lio let their banter roll out. Listening was a nice alternative to being home alone, or worse, answering prying questions about himself. His little inner voice did not return this time, and he counted that as a blessing.

“Plea-suuuure to m _EE_ t you!”

Everyone whipped their heads around from the couches to look at the promare. He was talking while working his way through a pepperoni pizza. He was chewing on it like a large cookie, and talking through the mess of cheese, bread, and sauce.

“Promare… Sent to Earth… guard the stones.” He swallowed, and took an indelicate gulp of water. “Return to Earth, but attack,” he held up a hand in imitation of a finger pulling a trigger, “BOOM!”

Guiera, who had been scrolling on his phone, dropped it, while the other three simply stared with wide eyes. Lio frowned.

Before he could ask, the priests were asking questions rapid-fire.

“Where are the other promare?”

“How did they construct you?”

“Who attacked?”

“Where are the stones?”

“What do we do?”

His eyes flitted between everyone as they asked their questions, and he groaned.

“Need more words.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the pizza. “More!”

Guiera elbowed Meis, and grinned. “He’s almost as bad as Varys with eating.”

“I heard that!”

Remi grabbed a tablet, and began typing furiously, “We’ll need to make him an ID. I think Ardebit can help… I just need a picture…” he snapped a painfully bright flash photo of Naked Guy, and then wandered into another room to work in peace and quiet.

After a few more questions from the priests that didn’t satiate anyone’s curiosity, Naked Man became fussy. He waved his hands in rejection, and gestured at the couch while saying “tired” and “sleep.”

Unsure of the reason or rationality, Lio stayed, and continued to sip at his poorly brewed tea while the others continued to argue and deliberate. He could have chalked it up to needing his fare paid back, but if he was being really honest with himself, it was that he enjoyed the company for once. His nerves were soothed enough that he didn’t think any panic attacks were near.

That would likely change if he opened his phone and looked at the voicemails and missed notifications. He really really didn’t want to deal with Old Man now.

▲

By now, Naked Man was snoring on the couch at the back of the room.

Did he have a name, wherever he came from?

That thought stayed with him, and managed to blur out the conversation of the others for longer than Lio would have liked to admit.

Later, Remi said he had to make a few calls. The other three nodded, and seemed to find other work to do. In an attempt to be polite, Lio stood as well, and awkwardly realized that now was the time for him to leave. Guiera dug up some loose bills that came nowhere near covering his car’s damage, but was enough to scrounge up some dinner. While Lio folded up his prize and shoved it into one of his pockets, both Guiera and Meis made an exit to buy more groceries.

Lio ended up glancing at the sleeping form of Naked Guy.

He supposed it would be rude to leave and have him wake up to realize his rescuer had disappeared. There needn’t be any more vase casualties like earlier that day.

The promare’s head rested on the arm of the couch, and the blanket he borrowed had slipped down to his waist.

“Hey.” Lio coughed, and spoke louder. “Hey!”

No response beyond a muffled snore.

Lio reached out, and tapped his shoulder. He had personally never been a restful sleeper, and while on Special Forces, it was an unspoken rule that you didn’t wake sleeping comrades unless the situation was life or death. Few people of Lio’s acquaintance did well with being woken up forcefully.

Still no response.

He tapped again, and then tried shaking his shoulder. Maybe he should just leave.

Finally, Lio lightly patted his cheek.

The man made a happy, sleepy sound, and stretched so that his chin rose, and his throat was bared. He also swung an arm up, and held Lio’s hand in place while he nuzzled into it.

Fire licked at Lio’s ears and cheeks, and he snatched his hand away. Or, at least, he tried to. Naked Man had a much wider reach, and used his free hand, somehow, in his sleep, to circle around Lio’s waist and tug him onto the couch. Now, Lio was encircled by his arms, tucked in as close as could be, with a face that was fire engine red.

He squirmed a bit, trying to escape while keeping his dignity intact. Naked Man sighed in his sleep, and rolled over so that Lio was being squished into the couch.

Lio reached up to pinch his captor’s nose and cover his mouth, and that seemed to do the trick. When the smaller man managed to tilt his head to look up, he could see that the idiot was waking up.

His eyes were open, and they were flitting from the ceiling, to the room, to the couch, and to Lio. Several neurons appeared to fire up, and he made a sound similar to “What the hell?!”

His hands flew away, and he began kicking in a manner not unlike when he first fell into the car. Lio sat up, his hands held out in placation, “No, no no, you don’t understand…”

“Get off!”

He bucked his hips, and Lio happily took the fall to avoid a punch aimed for his right eye.

“ _NO_! Get _OFF_!” To Lio’s horror, at some point between yelling various orders, Naked Man disarmed him of his pistol, and was aiming it right between his eyes.

“Hush! Shhh! You’ll bring everyone here! I was just trying to say goodbye!”

“Goodbye?”

That word seemed to catch his attention. The gun stayed pointed at his forehead, and Lio stayed on the floor. He sighed. “Yes, goodbye! I’m leaving. Didn’t want you having a meltdown if you woke up wondering where I was.”

“You… have a strange way to… wake me up.”

“Trust me, it was an accident.”

He didn’t look like he wanted to trust Lio.

Lio found he didn’t like dealing with the wrong side of the gun. He held his palms out, flat and open, in a gesture of openness and negotiation. Naked Man still eyed him suspiciously.

“I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Lio. Lio Fotia.”

Feeling like an idiot, he grabbed the only piece of paper within reach, a business card for a pizza parlor, out of his pocket, and scratched out his name with a pen lying on the floor nearby. He flicked it towards Naked Man, hoping he’d understand. He picked up the card, but still scowled and kept a firm grip on the gun. Lio pressed his hands against his chest for extra emphasis. “Lio Fotia.”

His eyes moved up and down, from Lio’s hands to the pistol he held in his own, to the card, back to Lio again. He tilted his head and tried to sound out the name.

“Liooo. Foshaaaa.”

“Lio Fotia! That’s right.”

“You’re Lio Fotia.”

“Yes! And you? What’s your name?” he pointed his hands towards him in an attempt to distract and calm him down. As luck would have it, the request made him happy, and he tilted the weapon back and set it on his shoulder.

He spent the next ten seconds spewing an impressive line of vowels, consonants, clicks, and hiccups that Lio could never hope to repeat.

“Uh….” Lio hadn’t anticipated such long names for the promare. “How about… something shorter?”

Whatshisname quirked a brow.

“Lio.” He gestured back to himself, and pinched his fingers to articulate having a short name. “My full name is Lio Fotia, but I go by Lio. It's short. Do you use a shorter name?”

He took a moment to think it over, and then snapped his fingers. “Galo! Ga-lo-thy-mos!”

“Galo.”

Galo seemed pleased with Lio’s use of his name. He nodded, and tossed the pistol to a nearby armchair. For good measure, he pressed a thumb to his own chest, and repeated, “I’m Galo,” before pointing to Lio, and adding “You’re Lio.”

Lio wasn’t sure when they had managed to stand so close that Galo was leering over him with his hands on his hips, as if he had won this interaction, but it made him wary again.

He walked over to the armchair, and snatched up his gun, quickly shoving it into the holster.

“Pleased to meet you, Galo.”

Whatever game they had been playing, it was over now.

When Lio glanced at a clock, he jolted.

It was night already?

He scrambled to look for his jacket.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I need to go home. I…” he paused, and decided to just keep things simple. “I need to sleep.”

Galo continued to invade his personal bubble, and watched him don the jacket.

“You’ll come back after sleep?”

Lio went to the front door, and hesitated. Poor idiot thought he was coming back. He waited for the door to open, and he stepped over the threshold while holding up a hand that was intended to tell Galo to stay.

“I won’t be coming back.”

Before the promare could respond, Lio hit the door close button.

“Nice knowing you, Ga-lo-thy-mos.”


	7. Dreams & Schemes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care of each other, and enjoy :)

Sweetie gave Lio a murderous feline glare when he returned to the apartment after a long taxi ride back.

He crouched down, ready to give a syrupy-sweet “I’m sorry!” but the cat decided instead to pounce onto his bed, and very deliberately ignore him. He supposed he deserved it.

After demolishing a pack of crackers and what little hot water his shower could produce, Lio set a pack of chicken and vegetables into the microwave to heat up. When he sat on the bed and opened his phone, he groaned. There were far too many red alert notifications on the screen, and he needed a minimum of eight hours of sleep before he was ready to deal with the world. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Old Man would surely know something was up by now. Lio tossed the device on the floor. He could leave another voicemail if he was feeling chatty.

By the time the microwave pinged with hot food, Lio was laying on his side on the bed, fast asleep.

▲

_Lio was mad that he couldn’t see out the window. He was much smaller than the design of the seat, and somewhere in the back of the car, he felt the whoosh of chilly air on the top of his arms. Everything was so dark and clean, and he couldn’t resist running a finger along the suede-soft leather of his seat. He was struck by how pale his skin was against the black material, and he noticed some dirt had found its way under his fingernail. He made a distressed sound._

_Why was he trying to look out the window?_

_He tried to lean forward, but was held back by a tightly-pulled seatbelt._

_“Stop fussing! We’re almost there.”_

_Lio chewed on the inside of his cheek, and deliberated over whether or not he should try to dig the grime out from under his fingernails. He was just so darn tired of sitting still in the back of this stupid nice car._

_All he could see out the window right now was a swath of sky, angry with violets and blues and little traces of orange. There was something… what was it he was looking for?_

_The car slowed, and the seatbelt bit against his neck and shoulder. It was a stupid contraption. He couldn’t wait to be rid of it._

_The back lock clicked open. He struggled with the buckle, and pinched a finger as it came loose._

_“Come on, kid, we don’t have all day.”_

_He wanted to bite out a rude word or two, but stopped when he saw the back door swing open._

_Ah yes, he remembered._

_He wanted to see the sun set._

▲

Galo woke in the morning with a cheerful crackle of limbs from his couch.

Okay, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly _his_ couch. But the Brotherhood had loaned it to him, and they served both him and his mission, right? They had already supplied him with food and clothes and a little cellphone. What was one simple (and frankly comfortable) piece of furniture to them? Surely it was a small price to pay for saving the Earth.

The sun wasn’t up yet, but he was feeling plenty alert in this new body. It turned out that a corporeal form was much less of a nuisance than he had been led to believe. Sure, showering and shitting were now set to be annoying constants in his life, but the _food_. Gods, the food alone was worth five hundred years of boredom. He already had a special place in his heart for pizza. After being shown how to access a massive online database of videos, he may or may not have bookmarked multiple videos about how to make pizza.

The only part of the delicacy he really wanted to change was the tradition of eating in slices and sharing. Such a format baffled him. He was a firm believer that any pizza could be a personal pizza if one tried hard enough.

Galo rolled each arm in its socket as he stood up, motivated by the thought of pizza for breakfast, and was satisfied to find no stiffness or pain in his body. And when he went through a mental checklist of limbs, appendages, and critical organs, he was pleased to find that nothing was missing or bleeding. Similarly, his memory of Earth Federation languages was fresh enough that he felt confident about making a few calls today.

The last briefing he got before… well, before his ship was so very rudely blown up, gave him useful information on who he needed to contact, and where to find the stones.

Soaking up several thousand hours of linguistics in the space of a couple late night hours had him feeling hungry, so he began tinkering with the microwave while he deliberated over learning more about human customs and history. Getting out of the priests’ home needed to happen soon, and he didn’t want to waste time and run the risk of any of them tagging along. It would slow him down, and he didn’t have time to explain or attempt to keep them safe.

One particular stop on this whole mission, he had only barely gotten approval from his own people to do, and he didn’t want to see it delayed, or worse, bungled by any humans.

Yesterday had made it perfectly clear that humans were flawed creatures.

One of his priests claimed it should really be thanks to the Nucleolab that his brain and body functioned so well. Galo didn’t disagree, but he didn’t exactly believe there was much by way of thanks that he could give to that place. He’d take another instance of finding Li-Oh-Fo-Tcha in his sleeping lap before he’d ever spend another moment in the Nucleolab.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about sleep yet. Sure, being dormant was normal in his old form, but there was something slightly unsettling about needing to fall into a state of unconsciousness with the solar cycle to rest, heal, and allow the subconscious to process reality. When he undid a few bandages in the bathroom, he was pleased to find that he was healing much faster than a typical human. Most of the ugly purples, greens, and yellows from yesterday were fading away, and the once-strange contrast between his golden skin and white teeth was growing on him. If he was good-looking by human standards, he was sure he would have an easier time convincing others to join his cause.

After stuffing his face, he crammed a bag (called a backpack, what a _delightful_ word), with more clothes, some electric cords he knew were important for supplementing the life of his phone, and a card that had been explicitly described as “for emergencies _only”_ by the staunch Remi. His whole situation qualified as an emergency, so he didn’t feel the least bit guilty about imagining how many pizzas he could order on that card alone.

By the time he made it outside, the sun was barely peeking out over the lowest towers, and bathing everything in a sweet pink light. Galo wasn’t fond of the smells in the air, but at least the lights and sounds were still tolerable this early in the day. The vibrations of cars and trains was a fraction of what it was yesterday afternoon, and now that he spoke some basic Earth languages, the occasional video ad for cheap, greasy breakfast foods along his path no longer confused him, and the combination of lilting voices and close-ups of cooked animal flesh didn’t look nearly as frightening anymore.

There had been nothing like this when he was at the Temple. Of course, that had been a different time, when cars were just beginning to be built, and more people lit their paths with candles than they did electricity. You could smell a rainstorm from miles away, and the stretch of the galaxy at night was as clear as a ripple on water. Sure, he had been stored away in that damned case, but his senses had also been exponentially stronger as a promare. He could hear a herd of horses running from miles away. He could feel the warmth of sunshine on granite just as well as a sunbathing lizard, and the snap of bark freezing in the winter was still fresh enough in his mind that he could still get the chills from it.

He was thinking of those same chills when he rounded a corner, and found himself within viewing distance of his destination. The tower gleamed bright and white in the morning light, and the contrast was made even more stark by the dark green gardens that ate up the block surrounding it. The view was lovely, if a bit over-manicured. There was still a sleepy, quiet air to the city, and Galo decided to take advantage of it by choosing to walk one of the more meandering paths through the park to the tower. It was the sort of thing his mentors would mock as "sentimental," but then again, he didn't have to think too deeply about it to know he simply didn't care what others thought.

He knew his fondness for the planet simply came from wanting to protect it, and a handful of centuries only added to the fondness. So what if the other promare didn't readily see that?

When he arrived at the tower, his neck craning back to see it in its full glory, he scoffed. Yep. If he had to choose, he always preferred the languages of trees in the wind to interstellar radio chatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that it's been a minute since I updated! Life has been... uh... (gestures at the general state of the world). I've also had to bounce back from a close family death and lots changing with my work situation. Not gonna lie, the motivation and raw inspiration to write or do anything selfishly creative has been gone for a while. But I love this story, and it deserves to be found, and y'all deserve more stories (even if this ends up getting shared on an inconsistent schedule lol). The comments and kudos keep me going, thank you one and all!


	8. Cerise

When Kray Foresight came in to work after a night of dreamless sleep, he was prepared to see files and tablets of things needing signatures.

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was the secretary gesturing helplessly at a man sitting cross-legged in front of his office doors. There were no meetings scheduled for him, and nobody else had access to this floor, so how-

The young man spoke up before he could ask any questions, his eyes bright with determination.

“I’m Galo Thymos! I’m… I’m with the Brotherhood.”

Kray quirked a brow, considered his options, and then decided today was as good a day as any to put a young idealist in their place. If the Brotherhood wanted a chat, then they’d get that and then some.

He had to hold back a scoff as he walked into his office, and the fellow respectfully followed behind. He had dealt with everything from bootlickers to protesters to criminals, but there was something so simply purely _annoying_ about honorable men. They were so boring. Maybe that was why it was so easy for Kray to pretend he was an honorable man when the cameras were turned towards him. Being boring was easy. And this guy looked pretty damn honorable.

Just one of many run-of-the-mill idiots.

“So… Galo…”

“Thymos. Galo Thymos, sir!”

His voice left a slight ringing in Kray’s ears. _So he’s a polite idiot._

“Thymos. How long have you been with the Brotherhood?”

He paused, and thumbed at the hem of his shirt. “As long as I can remember.”

“Ah, I see. You must be quite high up in the order then.” Galo didn’t respond, so Kray continued. “I must confess, I’ve always been quite interested in the work of the Brotherhood… and of the promare. Unfortunately, I’ve only been able to learn about them in the last couple years. I’m a busy man, and pursuing new projects can be quite… time-consuming.” He smiled, and held his hands up, gesturing at the wide windows that afforded a premium view of Promepolis. Galo pursed his lips, and noticeably didn’t take in the scenery.

“May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“If you’re so interested in the promare, why haven’t you joined forces with us?”

Kray chuckled.

“Like I said, I’m a busy man.”

“Maybe you’ve been too busy.”

“Oh, come now. Powerful people have busy schedules. It takes a special kind of person to manage what I do and not get overwhelmed.

“I wasn’t saying you were overwhelmed. But people should be worthy of the power they wield. It’s no good if they keep it all to themselves.”

“You make it sound like I’m trying to destroy the planet, rather than save it.”

“Aren’t you?”

There was something about the way that Galo asked the question that made Kray want to grind his teeth together. It wasn’t that Galo’s voice was loud anymore, and it wasn’t that Kray’s head was starting to throb. It was that his questions were so stupidly earnest, direct, and _genuine_.

“You seem to really care about others, don’t you, Galo?”

“Absolutely!” He nodded with brilliant, pure conviction. “I have to! People are depending on me.”

“Hmm.” The words were startling in similarity to what a younger, less world-wise Kray Foresight had been saying when he was just out of school. Now _there_ was someone who had a lot to learn, and someone who Kray would have some choice words for.

“You should join us.”

“What?” Kray’s eyes widened only ever-so-slightly. He was pretty sure that he was getting a headache.

“Join us. You can help. You have more money… and resources and security,” Galo waved at the view out the window, “than you know what to do with! There are plenty of people who need someone with that sort of power leading them.”

“That’s what the _Foundation_ is for. They allocate and redistribute the profits-“

“I’m not talking about savings and charity donations. I’m talking about turning your businesses towards serving the people. Not selling out to the highest bidders.”

Kray rubbed his forehead. “Highest bidders?”

“Yeah. Foreign militaries. Rich politicians. The celebrities and dictators and the elites. They don’t need your inventions! You could be helping people instead of shooting them out of the sky.”

If Kray wasn’t already wearing white, he might have worried that he looked pale. He took many precautions and fake identities to keep his personal hobbies hidden from the public eye, most of all his interest in the promare and their so-called elements. And he disliked that Galo’s last line was implying… that he… _dammit_ but his head was beginning to hurt.

“Shooting them- What are you trying to say exactly, boy?”

His expression hardened. “I know about what happened on Mars two days ago. And you do too.”

Kray pursed his lips. He supposed with an operation of this size, there were bound to be a few loose lips. Still, it didn’t sit comfortably with him to know that at least one follower of the Brotherhood, no matter how stupid, had that information.

After a moment, Galo stepped forward, so that the two of them were only a couple feet apart. He rested a hand on Kray’s left shoulder and shook his head.

“Don’t let it control you anymore, Kray. You already have so much power. “

His lips pulled back in a snarl. The headache in his skull and standing in front of him was making him see red.

Galo had a searching look in his eyes, and he ran his palm over Kray’s cheek.

“I can save you. You don’t have to do this, you know.”

For the shortest instance, Kray considered it. He considered what this boy, this nobody, could offer him, and he indulged himself with questioning all the choices he had made up to this point.

And then, soft and short as a sigh, the headache lifted.

His mouth curled into a small smile, and one hand came up to cover Galo’s hand.

“I know I don’t have to do this.”

With his other hand, Kray curled his knuckles, and struck Galo on the cheek hard enough that he stumbled back.

“But I _want_ to.” He swung again, in an attempt to get the other cheek, but missed when Galo sidestepped, covering his face with one arm.

Kray laughed, and turned around to return to his desk. He shook out his fist, straightened the collar of his own shirt to smooth out the wrinkles, and crooked a finger for Galo to follow. “You know how to take a hit. I like that in a person. Come here.”

“Are you going to hit me again?”

“Only if you continue making ridiculous offers.”

Galo scowled, but he stayed quiet.

“I have every means to take whatever I want, _whenever_ I want. I practically run Promepolis, and I could run the Federation if I so desired! I can choose who lives and who dies. Does your Brotherhood have that sort of power?” He gave Galo a pointed look. “I don’t think you can even save yourself, boy.”

Kray leaned on the edge of his desk, feeling quite satisfied.

“You have nothing you can offer me. Maybe you’re holding something back; using something as a last-ditch bargaining tool. But don’t worry. Before you try to sell your soul to me, think on it. I’m not interested in spearheading the killing of every human on this planet. Quite the contrary, actually... I’m going to save it.”

Galo’s heart sank.

He had known for a while that evil was taking hold in several dark corners of the world. He so, so, _so_ wished he could find an ally in Kray. He had worked so hard to convince the promare that Kray could be helped, befriended, saved, whatever. But now that he was here, standing in front of the man, he felt sick with the presence of the cruelest type of selfishness, one that was convinced it was being wielded to save others. Why did it have to catch hold in this gleaming white room, where a sharp mind was strangling itself with a savior complex?

Kray left his desk, and strode over to a small cart with various liquids and foods kept in glass containers. If Galo remembered correctly, those liquids were alcoholic, and could have a variety of effects once absorbed into the human bloodstream.

“Galo, I don’t know what assets you think you have to offer, but I’m fairly certain that you have nothing I could truly value. What you have can be manufactured, or bought, or taught.” Kray rolled his eyes and smirked, like there was some sort of private joke in what he said. He opened a jar of small red fruit that resembled cherries. “I’ve been acquiring assets all my life,” he held up a handful of cherries, “in the hopes that if I needed to cash in on them, I could.” He picked out a cherry, and threw it in his mouth. “What sort of assets do you think you could offer me?”

“Come with me to Fhloston Paradise. I can’t tell you, but I can show you.”

“Fhloston… Paradise.”

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

“Not everything is so… tangible as your assets, Kray.”

“Want to bet?”

Galo didn’t answer the mostly-rhetorical question.

He chuckled. “These pitted cherries, for example, come from a rare Japanese breed of tree that almost went extinct thirty years ago. I loaned the farmer some money and equipment to upgrade their systems, and now, the profit from the fruit they bear annually far exceeds the total cost of my investment. If I ever require more money, or tire of investing in produce, all I have to do is put the entire thing up for sale. Everything from the machines to the farmers to the trees to the cherry pitters.” He took a firm bite in the fruit.

“I didn’t come here for a business lesson, Kray.”

“Too bad, kid.” He smirked, and ate another cherry. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Some of my best resources took years to acquire. Not just a simple conversation one morning with some stranger. Detroit was one of my toughest assets. It was like unraveling a whole tapestry. Buying off law enforcement and big business was easy enough, but the unions and gangs were especially persistent…” A distant, fond look crossed his face. He was clearly reliving a pleasant memory. “The Mad Burnish were especially… difficult.” He chuckled, and tossed another cherry in his mouth. “But like all big fires, they burned out eventua- ah… ghk!”

Galo took a step back. He was only vaguely familiar with the concept of choking to death. But he would take whatever he got from this interaction, even if it meant leaving empty-handed.

“You have an interesting view of the world, Kray.”

He circled around the man, who was huffing empty air and knocking at his breast bone with a fist.

“You see money and assets and products and operations. It’s all about the farm, and not the cherry.”

He went to the liquor cart, and held up a jar of some other syrup-soaked fruit. Kray’s face was darkening.

“When the world ends, just know this. Nobody will remember the things or the systems or the money.” Kray snarled, but it was a small and pathetic sound. Galo set the jar down, and came back to the desk. “They remember people. Memories. Love. Things that can be felt but not seen.”

Kray was purple and doubled over.

“It’s what I’ve been charged with protecting.”

Galo held his hands out, palms up, and a small white flame flickered between his fingers. Kray’s eyes widened as he struggled for air.

“It’s about the people behind the machines. You can have the biggest, most powerful company in the world, and it’ll mean nothing against something as small as a single cherry pit.”

He raised an arm above Kray, and gave a single hard, skeleton-shaking hit to the back.

The cherry pit popped out, and fell to the floor with a light _tack-tack-tack_.

Kray’s pride was mortally wounded. With a quick tap to a button on his desk, the office door slid open, and two guards scurried in. He snapped his fingers, and both guards jostled Galo with more force was necessary.

He cracked his neck, and took a gulp of sweet air. Galo only stared, and it made Kray scoff. “I could have you sent to jail. I could have you killed, right here and right now if I wanted. In fact… It might be in my best interest to have someone with your… _abilities_ … put down.”

Galo’s face remained blank.

“But you saved my life, and in return… I’ll spare yours.”

He nodded his head at the guards, and they began dragging Galo to the door. Galo didn’t resist, so it was a fast exchange. One of them picked up his backpack, and threw it bodily at him.

“And just so you know…” he called out as they passed over the threshold, “If I ever see you again, Galo Thymos, I _will_ kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wheeeeee work and life made this chapter super delayed. Plus for some reason Kray has been the hardest character ever for me to write??? Anyways feed a dummy and tell me if you liked it. More nudity and GaloLio in the coming chapters <3


	9. Aqua Regia

A night memories-made-dreams found Lio with heavy bags under his eyes.

It had been a long time since his childhood made an appearance in his dreams, and he couldn’t say it put him in a very good mood. Bad dreams meant bad memories, and bad memories meant a cry for help. Lio had attended only just enough therapy sessions to know that those were dead-end roads to the type of independence he liked. Special Forces had recruited him young, after being thrown into juvie joints more times than he could count, and while he hadn’t always been fond of the people or tasks given to him, he had always been relatively free to do as he pleased. The problem with him in particular was that if he shared that he thought he had any cracks or crumblings in his mind, the Federation was within its rights to poke, prod, and strip him of any independence that he had built for himself. They liked to collect people who had shadows in their mind, while Lio actively avoided looking inward. Rather than address it, whatever it was, he had skipped out once his commission ended, mainly in the hope that it could help him forget his old life.

Coming to Promepolis was a clean, if painful, cut away from his violent past.

Sweetie had been her usual unaccommodating self; yowling at the door when he got up, and promptly ignoring him the moment she finished eating the kibble he poured into his last clean bowl. Lio was debating the health risks to making his own rug out of cat hide when a buzz at his door made him jump.

Beyond the odd online order for food or clothing, Lio’s doorbell didn’t ring.

He bit back a curse at seeing the familiar fatigues of Federation brass through the peephole. It felt like the cruelest of coincidences. He had hoped that leaving SF and all military contracts could make his separation from his past a bit more permanent, but it looked like the universe had other things in store.

“Lio Fotia? General Biar Colossus.” She clicked her heel, and held up a hand in salute, while the grunt behind her imitated the salute and introduced themselves. Lio forgot the name as soon as it was said, and he didn’t return the salute. He was a civilian now, after all.

“What do you want?”

“May we discuss that inside?”

He leaned in the doorway, deliberating, and then shrugged before nudging the door open with his foot. His charm as a host was spartan.

“Don’t expect any tea or couches to sit on.” He shut the door and crossed his arms. “So. What can I do for the dumbest branch of the Federation armed forces?”

Before Biar’s assistant could jump at the easy insult, she held up a hand and addressed Lio.

“You’ve been assigned a mission.”

“What do you mean? I retired.”

“According to your enlistment records, you still owe 57 hours to the Federation Armed Forces. Which is more than enough time for you to complete a mission of utmost importance with complete discretion.”

He glared. They actually kept _track_ of that sort of bullshit? He was almost certain it was a lie, but he went with it.

“What are you talking about?”

Biar stepped forward, and set two tickets on the counter. She wore a self-important smile, and read from a small card with a phony voice. “You’ve been selected as the winner of the annual Gemini Zodiac Signs contest, hosted by Lulu Fex, with a ten-day trip for two to Fholston Paradise. Congratulations.”

“You rigged it.”

She nodded. “You’re to leave immediately for Fhloston Paradise. You are under orders to seek out and return with four stone relics designed and used by the promare. Any questions?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

Lio was already bristling from having military in his apartment. More uncomfortable, however, was their mention of four stones and the promare. Didn’t the Brotherhood talk about that? Wasn’t Galo also looking for them? Who else was looking for them? How the hell many people were after these stones, anyways?

Before Biar could give some grandiose answer, Lio’s doorbell rang. Everyone looked curiously at the door.

“Expecting someone?” she asked.

How many more uninvited guests was Lio getting today? He turned to look through the peephole. He was greeted by the sight of messy blue hair and an annoyingly bright eyes.

“Oh my God.”

Lio snapped away from the viewer, his heart in his throat.

_Why is Ga-lo-Thy-mos here?!_

Biar was staring at him, and he spun together the quickest lie he ever had to tell in his life.

“Myexboyfriendishere!” He blabbed without thinking.

They stared at him, as if they couldn’t process what he said. To be honest, he didn’t really process what he just said either.

“Didn’t know you had time to date,” Biar’s companion mused.

He felt a prickle at his neck. Things needed to move along to get his lie to stick.

“He’s my boyfriend. I mean, _ex_ technically, but uh. I want him back.” He hoped his face was convincing enough. “Please just… give me a second… See, he’s a bit… uh, different.”

Biar frowned. “Different how?”

“He hates the military!” Lio stuck with the first thought that hit him. “He thinks they’re rotten to the core. I haven’t told him about… well, you know. So I need your help. I need you to hide!” He ushered them towards the freezer unit. It was just large enough to fit two pompous military types. “Yeah, no, sorry, you’re gonna have to go here for just a bit.”

“Really! I have to object to this… this is all very untoward! You’re behaving –“

“Like an idiot?” He scoffed, and laid on as much ham as he could without sounding sarcastic. “Love has a way of making us act like idiots.” He gave an unromantic shove to one of them so that they fit in snugly. “We had a fight recently.” _Shove_. “I told him to leave.” _Smack_ to an accusatory finger that he didn’t want caught in the lifting belt. “Guess both of us are still in love because we’re both still acting like idiots.”

Biar opened her mouth to loudly protest.

He hit her with his best puppy-dog eyes. “I really want things to work with this guy. Just give me a moment of privacy, and you’ll have your answer.”

He didn’t give Colossus time to respond before smacking the lift panel, and replacing the icy box with the shower. He could hear the freezer motor begin to run, and frowned. That was an unfortunate coincidence.

▲

“Galo!” He peeked out, left and right, to make sure nobody else was out in the hallway. “What are you doing here?!” he hissed.

“Saving the world?” he said, all innocence.

“Not that! Here, in the apartments. Why are you _here?_ Were you looking for me?”

“I need your help…” he rubbed the back of his head and smiled, “again.”

At least he was dressed now. Though, if Lio were being honest with himself, the black shirt and bright red track pants didn’t do much to hide what Galo was packing. Leave it to him to look like a sportswear model in cheap hand-me-downs. Lio’s pulse was traitorously high.

Galo shifted a backpack on his shoulder. He was sporting a small bruise just below his eye that Lio didn’t recall him having when they last parted ways.

“How did you find me?”

Galo flicked out the small business card, and smiled shyly. “It wasn’t hard. Meis and Guiera showed me how search the extranet for addresses. Figured out the rest myself – hey!”

Lio dragged him into the apartment. Naïve fool didn’t know how easy it’d be for someone to harass him if he dawdled there too long.

The freezer stall was pretty well isolated but wasn’t perfectly soundproofed. He kept his voice low while Galo set down his backpack and looked around the apartment. Sweetie meowed, and ran over to Galo to wind herself around his legs.

“You shouldn’t be here! What if the cops come looking for you? What if they were here looking for me- “

“I need your help!”

Lio stared. “You’ve gotten me into enough trouble as it is.”

“Fhloston Paradise. I need your help to go there. I need to get the stones.”

“Stones” pricked Lio’s ears, and he started thinking. He pieced together Biar’s mission with Galo and with the priests’ explanation. That Galo needed to retrieve and deliver a set of stones to Earth. But why were they at –

“Fhloston Paradise?”

“Yes!” Galo nodded vigorously. “They are being kept safe by… a friend. A friend of the promare.”

“And you know this… how?”

“I called them on the way here!”

Well. That was more information than the Federation had five minutes ago.

“Did a friend give you that bruise?” Lio pointed at Galo’s cheek. “I’d like to know if we’re going to be seeing more of that.”

Galo rubbed his cheek, and chuckled. “This was my own fault. It was… an accident.”

Lio suspected Galo was learning the art of lying. He paused just long enough, and avoided eye contact. But there was no need to question it. Lying could be a useful tool in sticky situations. He was still quite impressed that Galo had managed to find him so quickly. And maybe he was selfishly happy that someone was looking for him for motivations other than warrants and guns for hire.

“Last question. Why me? Why can’t you get one of your faithful priests to – “

“Not enough time! You’re the one who saved me. Not them. If you helped once, you can do it again. Also… you’re a good person. You don’t kill unless you have to.”

He balked. It was the stupidest line of reasoning that Lio had ever heard.

But it was also delivered by the most earnest face he had seen in a long, long time.

And dammit, they were looking into each other’s eyes again.

A light dropped down from the ceiling. Sweetie scurried into an empty cupboard.

Lio grimaced. It was one of the local patrols checking for squatters. Promepolis was full of unregistered citizens, and this side of town was particularly fond of searching the larger apartment complexes. Local bullies held random search patrols, and today was truly Lio’s lucky day. Galo eyed the light.

“What’s that?”

“A patrol. You need to hide. You’re not registered, and they’ll arrest anyone without proper identification.”

“But I have a mission-“

“They don’t care about your mission! They’re just looking for a reason to pick on others!” Lio dragged him to the only empty hiding space left in his apartment, the shower stall.

“They don’t sound very nice…”

“They’re _not._ Now be quiet and stay here for a few minutes. I’ll get you when it’s all done.”

Galo almost bumped his skull on the shower head, he was just so damn tall. Lio pressed a button for the shower to lift, and he held up his index finger in a shushing motion.

Galo imitated it, a finger to his own lips, with a shaky smile.

The shower lifted up, and the freezer reappeared, and stayed blessedly closed.

Lio scurried to the wall that was painted specifically for inspections, and tried to ignore the sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

He heard the click-beep of the apartment door being opened by a master key. A surly-looking man stepped in, and made extra efforts to show he wasn’t particularly impressed with Lio’s residence.

“Name?”

“Uh…” he quickly accessed his memory to figure out which pseudonym he used to sign the housing contract for this place. The policeman, obviously not paying attention to any of the answers, continued with other questions, which Lio answered with blatant lies.

“Have you travelled to any non-Federation planets in the past six months?”

“I was born here and I’ve lived in this apartment my whole life.”

“Are you human?”

“Uh, negative, sir, I am a meat popsicle.”

The cop was quiet for a beat, and then snarled something about white trash. Down the hall, a group of people were causing a ruckus. Arresting a group was much more profitable for him than one sassy boy, so he let it slide, and stomped down the hall. Lio stayed at his wall, even though the front door was left wide open.

After a couple minutes, the light turned off, and Lio took his hands off the wall. He exhaled, and cracked his back to get the stiffness out of it. He kicked the door shut, and turned his attention to…

Uh oh.

He could hear the clean and rinse cycle of the shower going, and when he smacked the shower button to turn it off and lower it back down, he found Galo standing there pathetically, with his hands tucked into his armpits and his hair hanging in cold, watery strands. His teeth might have been chattering, too.

“I’m so sorry!” Lio rushed to pull out an old blanket from his closet. “That water must have been freezing!”

“I’m-m-m f-f-f-fine…”

“Don’t pretend, idiot. I can see a lie a mile away with you. Here,” he rubbed Galo’s head and shoulders, standing on his tiptoes to reach, “use this to dry off.”

Galo grinned, obviously appreciative of the attention. He pressed both hands over Lio’s own, and took the damp blanket off of his head. His nose was pink, but he was grinning. He shimmied a bit to towel the cold water off of his neck and arms.

“Th-th-thanks. The Brothers let me take a shower t-t-t-t-too, I know how to do this. B-b-b-but my clothes…” he looked down, sounding dismayed.

Lio looked down at him, and then whipped his eyes back up. One look was all he needed to see just how thin the material of Galo’s pants was. Apparently, the promare didn’t believe in the concept of underwear.

“Uhhh…” he said intelligently.

He definitely didn’t have any clothing in Galo’s size to offer as a replacement.

Galo strode over to the backpack he had left at the foot of Lio’s kitchenette. Blessedly, he pulled out a new shirt, and another set of sweatpants. He pulled his shirt over his head.

Lio turned before he could see what sat below the cut of Galo's hips in an attempt to behave gallantly, and called out, “Do you want some coffee?” He wasn’t sure why it was so important to be nice to this near-stranger, but he did it anyways.

“No thanks! But I’m hungry if you have food.”

The request didn’t surprise him at all. He began to rummage around in the cupboards for something that hadn’t expired yet. And then he got an idea.

There, next to the coffee, were the passes to Fhloston Paradise.

Everyone seemed to want to go there and pick up a set of stones. Galo wanted to go. The Brotherhood wanted Galo to go. The Federation wanted Lio to go, and Lio wasn’t exactly thrilled about the assignment.

But there were two tickets.

Galo would know what to do. Lio could tag along. He’d get the credit, and Galo would get the stones. It’d get the military off his back, and Galo would get what he wanted. Everyone would win.

He grinned. If he had Galo helping, he’d be three steps ahead and put in only half the effort. Maybe he’d even get to pretend the trip was an actual vacation.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Lio turned, hoping that Galo was finished dressing. He closed the cupboard, and tucked the tickets into his belt. The larger man gave him an inquisitive look, and thankfully, was fully clothed again.

“I don’t have any good food here. I know a place down the road,” he gave him a small smile, “and I promise no cold showers there.”

Galo grinned, and knelt down to pet the cat, who had returned to wrap herself around his ankles.

“Sounds good to me!”

Lio walked over to pull Sweetie away from his legs, and plopped her on his bed. He gave her a glare that said “stay here or else.”

Galo hefted his backpack, and Lio hurried to fill a bag of his own with clothing and ID’s. He also slipped in his pistols. Being around Galo had a track record for getting him into strange situations. He would have liked to come back to the apartment after eating to regroup and plan, but he preferred to be prepared for more chaos.

He checked the floor to make sure Galo didn’t leave anything behind and locked the apartment door.

“Come on. We’ll talk about a plan as soon as we have some food.”

“WAIT!”

These random interruptions were starting to get on Lio’s nerves. He didn’t even flinch this time.

A small woman with glasses and pink hair was skidding in front of them. She was out of breath.

Galo pointed one finger, and very loudly and rudely yelled, “You!”

She used one hand to lean on the wall to catch her breath and used the other to wave him off. “I’m here… to help!”

Lio saw she wore a high-ranking, if slightly rumpled, military uniform. She looked like she might be a general. Maybe higher. But Galo was still eyeing her with obvious distaste, so he kept his guard up.

“What can we do for you?”

“Fifth Element… The stones… they… whew!” She really stood out as not being the athletic type.

She thrust her free hand out. It was clutching a card that said “Multipass.”

“He needs this. Galo Thymos. Multipass.”

Galo took the card with excessive caution, and sounded out the word.

“Multipass.”

“Who are you, and how did you find us?” Lio kept things all business. The woman was still wheezing, and nodded to show that she was willing to answer his questions.

“Lieutenant General… Heris Ardebit. I was there when he-“ she pointed at Galo, “was created. Was helping prepare… the Brotherhood couldn’t make it… and he got out…”

“It didn’t go well.” Galo said firmly.

She nodded. “The Brotherhood called in, told me they had found the Fifth Element. I had an ID made. Came by their place, but you had already left. I looked through your search history on the computer, lined it up with a former Special Forces agent,” she nodded at Lio, “and came to this address as quickly as I could.”

“If this is about acquiring the stones, save your breath. I already heard it, and we’re on the way out now.”

“But do you have transport to get there? A pilot? A ship? What about when you get the stones? We’re running on a tight deadline, and can’t wait ten days while you take a vacation.”

Lio had no idea what his arrangements were for any of that, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Heris.

“I’ve got it under control.”

“Lio…”

“Not now Galo.”

“But Lio…” he hissed, “I think she genuinely wants to help.”

“I’m not fond of people telling me what to do. I especially don’t like it when multiple people order me around.” Lio’s eyes flashed. “Seems strange that the other woman gave me my mission, and failed to mention any of _this_.”

“She tends to act on first impulse. She was supposed to consult with me, but didn’t. We’ve worked together before, and _he_ can confirm it doesn’t usually go well.” She nodded at Galo, and shrugged.

Lio smirked.

“Internal power struggles?” he scoffed. “How petty.”

“Watch it, kid.”

“Leave him alone! He’s agreeing to help me!”

“Galo! Don’t yell indoors.” Lio bit out.

He clamped his mouth shut, and sulked while Lio returned a hard glare to Heris.

“I’ve agreed to take the mission, if you must know. If you need me to sign something to prove it-“

“No, no, it’s fine! You don’t need to do that…I’m sorry. We’re all a little… on edge about all this. We’d like to avoid as many mishaps as possible. All I’m trying to offer is a pilot and ship that can help get you in and out quick if problems come up.” She took out her phone, and with a swiping motion, both Lio and Galo’s phones buzzed from a local contact drop. Galo made a curious sound and tapped at the info bubble.

There must have been something about Lio’s face that said he was still not completely won over, because Heris let out an undignified sigh, and asked, “What will it take for me to help and make things easier?”

“Watch Sweetie for me.”

Heris looked immediately suspicious. “Who’s… Sweetie?”

“My cat.” Lio cracked the door open, and caught the feline just as she tried to slip out and run down the hall. He dumped the animal in Heris’ arms, and unclipped the key fob he usually kept on his phone. “She eats twice a day, don’t let her meowing fool you. Also, she needs to get her claws trimmed.” Lio made a strange face, and then laughed, and rubbed the back of his head.

“Could you also check the freezer for me? I’ve been getting a lot of visitors lately. If there’s anything in there, could you set it out?”

Before Heris could inquire further about his cryptic request, he was dragging his companion by the wrist, and they were scurrying down the hall. She called out, her voice rising as the pair grew further and further away.

“I’ll tell my pilot to expect you tonight! Her name is Aina Ardebit!”

Mumbling about idiots and special forces assholes, she nudged open the door that Lio had left open. She scrolled her phone, and clicked on the contact listed as “SIS <3 <3 <3” while made her way to the apartment’s kitchenette. The profile picture, a cheery selfie obviously taken by her sister, filled the screen while she waited for the dial tone.

▲

Lio and Galo were long gone when she began shrieking at the freezer and its contents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter way back in April, and I've been so excited to post it because it was one of the first scenes I imagined. Hope y'all enjoy it too! I'm hiding on Twitter at @ AdastraBeth


	10. Junket

Galo ate another round of food roughly equal to his bodyweight, and kept his eyes glued to a small cellphone. Lio assumed it was him reading up further on Earth languages and customs, and never bothered asking, even when Galo started struggling with mumbling words through the handfuls of fries.

Lio spent his own time, spare in plenty while Galo continued to eat, researching Fhloston Paradise and how to get there on a Lio Fotia budget.

Turned out, without the sweepstakes tickets that Biar gave him, it would have been all but impossible to get to the planet. The weekend of his trip was sold out, and even if it wasn’t, individual tickets went for triplicate what he paid in monthly rent.

He saw the name Lulu Fex on the tickets. Right, this was a sponsored pair of tickets. One lucky winner and all that jazz. He supposed it would be good to research the woman, but before he could launch a search, he got a message from Heris. How she got his phone number, he had no idea, but he didn’t bother to guess.

**New Message: You have some nerve locking a Fed Gen in a freezer. Good for you.**

**New Message: X-X-X Here’s Aina’s address. Go ASAP, she’ll be off the clock soon.**

Lio waited for Galo to finish his current (fourth) order of food, and then tapped his tray.

“We need to go.”

“Mkay.” Galo popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth in one bite, and loudly brushed his hands together to clean off the crumbs.

Lio scowled. “Use the napkin!”

“Sorry!” He tentatively tapped the flimsy paper to his hands, but it wasn’t very effective, since most of the crumbs had already been rubbed away on his first try.

After an exaggerated eye roll, Lio took them to the train station, where he snuck Galo on one of the commuter lines, and followed the route to Fire Station Number 3. Apparently, Aina Ardebit was not only a competent pilot, but also a volunteer firefighter. They didn’t want to miss her as her shift ended.

▲

Fire Station Number 3 was a small brick block planted on a sunny corner of southern Promepolis. In the late afternoon sun, it looked very inviting, even with one of the firetrucks sitting out front being hosed down.

Galo ogled the firetruck, while Lio looked around to make sure they hadn’t been followed.

A nondescript man who had been scrubbing one of the vehicle’s windows looked at them curiously. “Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for Aina Ardebit.” Galo spoke up, confident in his ability to socialize with strangers that weren’t in military or cop uniforms.

“Uh… I haven’t seen her yet, but she should be back any minute. Went to go check on some building permits from a fire last week…” He shrugged, obviously wishing he could be more helpful.

“It’s fine. We can wait.”

“What is that thing?” Galo enthusiastically whispered after a few minutes, when the other firefighter moved to a distance well beyond hearing them.

“Uh…” Lio followed Galo’s line of sight, and internally groaned. “That’s a firetruck. For firefighters.”

Galo looked a bit nervous, and Lio had to quickly follow up. “Don’t worry, they’re not interested in people like you,” _you know, with the burning soul and flame hands and all that…_ "their job is to put out dangerous fires. Like from accidents, when lightning strikes, or if there’s a grease fire in a kitchen. They want to help people who can’t handle fire.”

As he spoke, two other firefighters began talking, and one jumped into the driver’s seat to back the vehicle into the garage. He let out one loud _HONK_ of the horn to warn everyone that it was moving, and Galo literally jumped to his feet, startled by the noise.

Lio snorted.

Galo sent a rare scowl to Lio, and lowered himself back down to the bench so that he could bounce a knee and cross his arms to hide his newly-found embarrassment.

Lio basked in the sunlight, knowing that it would only take a few more minutes for the warmth on his cheeks to bloom into a light sunburn. He so rarely came out of doors. He spent a couple quiet minutes weaving in and out of little thoughts that didn’t matter, and eventually glanced over at Galo.

The big oaf was staring intently at the garage, tilting his head as if he were caught between an important thought and saying something profound. Lio was instantly curious.

“What is it?”

Galo shuffled a foot, and shrugged. His hesitation was comical, and Lio was almost willing to let it drop because it was just so… charming.

“I want to honk the horn.”

_Scratch that._ He wasn’t charming, he was simply stupid.

A motorcycle’s engine rumbled down the street, and came up to the garage doors. A young woman rolled up to the entrance, and stalled the bike while taking off her helmet. She had pink hair.

That was a promising sign.

“Are you Aina?” Lio said, his voice louder than usual to be heard over the grumble of the bike.

The woman slid off and flicked away a pair of sunglasses while she readjusted a backpack on one shoulder. She had a blinding smile, and a voice to match. She waved at them.

“Glad to see you made it! I’m Aina!”

▲

You really had to squint to see the relationship between Aina and Heris Ardebit. Sure, they both boasted bubblegum-pink hair, and had cute doe eyes, but beyond that, they were quite… opposite.

Where Heris dressed conservatively and kept a stiff posture, Aina was all about cutoff clothes and a wide smile. If one could accuse Heris of being modest, then Aina was far more guilty of being confident, bold, and loud. She walked up to them after popping the kickstand of her bike, and shook their hands firmly.

“So you’re the guys Heris called me about! Nice to meet you!”

Lio knew he’d have to take a gentler approach with her than he had Biar or Heris. Galo was enthusiastic about having his hand shaken, and even held out his hand to try it with Lio. Lio shook his head.

She ushered them into the station, past several monstrous firetrucks, and into an empty lounge with poor lighting and the faint scent of burnt coffee. She went straight for the cupboard, and fished out three chipped mugs.

“Heris gave me a quick rundown, but I’m going to need more details. Flying to Fhloston Paradise isn’t exactly a walk in the park.”

She held up the communal coffee pot, asking nonverbally if they wanted coffee. Lio nodded, and Galo shrugged. She fussed around while pouring two cups of coffee, grabbed a small carton of cream, and kicked the fridge door shut before joining them on the well-worn couches. Lio sank into the creased leather. It was nice enough that he sighed as he spoke.

“We have access passes. And tickets to get on the actual cruise line,” he handed the tickets to Aina, and traded in for the mug of lukewarm coffee. “I don’t have a lot of money to burn on a commercial flight out to the port, so if you can help us get there without alerting any others…”

The burnt coffee’s smell filled his nose, and he managed to sip down a little.

“Hmm,” she flipped the tickets over, “These take you from the Lunar Port to Fhloston Paradise. From here to the moon, it won’t be a long trip. Lots of checkpoints though. I’m surprised the Federation didn’t arrange something…”

“Last minute changes. Heris gave Galo a Multipass.” He nodded over to his companion.

Galo managed to dig up a pair of oversized firefighting gloves at some point during their conversation, and was wearing them now, clenching and unclenching his fists with unadulterated delight. Lio rolled his eyes.

“All you need is a pilot to get you there?”

“And back. We need to get back to Earth fast. Can’t trust commercial.”

“That’s gonna be tough.” Aina uncrossed and then recrossed her legs. “Fhloston Paradise is what it is because of all of the cruise line buyouts. That’s where the money comes in. They’re not exactly eager to let private ships come in and add to the pollution.”

Lio frowned. “But you’re not saying it’s entirely impossible.”

“It’ll be difficult. And with your tickets being a rigged win, you won’t be able to get out of the… LuLu Fex Experience?” Her mouth squiggled into a poorly hidden grin while she looked over the tickets.

“They didn’t need to go through all that trouble. I’m not much of a people person.”

“You don’t say!” Aina’s voice oozed sarcasm, but she was smiling. Lio couldn’t help but let the corner of his mouth curl up. “I’ll do some digging. Let’s see if I can’t pull some strings and help you guys get those stones.”

“Thanks, Aina.”

“By the way…” she nodded her head at Galo, who was quietly reading over the bulletin boards and flipping through an old magazine, “He’s not what Heris led me to believe at all.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “He’s really relaxed. Pretty friendly too! Heris warned me that I should be on the lookout for a blue-haired dude that was flighty, maybe even violent. She told me to give him lots of space.”

Lio frowned. “He’s a little rough around the edges. But I don’t think he’s dangerous as long as we’re on his side. He’s pretty strong… but I don’t think he has a mean bone in his body.”

Aina grinned, and stretched until her back cracked, and hopped up to pull a laptop out from her backpack. “Either way, it’s a relief! I don’t like dealing with those scary gangster types.”

For the shortest instance, Lio had a memory flash off like the light on a camera. He was on his belly, crammed under a car and staring at the silhouette of Detroit’s skyline. Gravel bit into the heels of his hands, and his cheeks burned from the heat of something big and bright across the street. For some reason, people were screaming, and there was something, somewhere in his brain that was telling him, don’t move. No matter what happens out there, don’t move.

He sucked in a breath, bringing himself back to the world of the living. Another memory, and it didn’t sit well with him.

_Don’t move._

Aina turned her attention to Galo, and the two began an eager round of question-and-answer about the wonderful world of firefighting.

Lio tried to focus and remember the foggy images buried nearly two decades ago, but like all his other dreams, the details faded into smoke, and he was left with a painful, empty feeling.

▲

“Heris can give us access to the Lunar Port, but we have to go separate ways for a bit.”

After a couple hours of debating and deciding on the best course of action, the three of them chose to use Federation funds at any chance they could get; they were going to push Heris’ multipass access card to the limit, and get their feet into any and all doors on the military’s dime. Call Lio petty, but he found the idea of burning government money deeply, deliciously satisfying. Special Forces kept their purse strings pulled tight back in the day, but now, if he wanted to buy a round of drinks for everyone on Fhloston Paradise, he could very well do so.

Aina had more rational plans.

“We’ll all be on the interplanetary flight, but I’ll have to go on the tarmac to get my ship stowed. And you’ll have to cash in on your tickets. From there, you’ll board as passengers, and I’ll stay undercover as a stewardess. Once you get the stones, we’ll rendezvous, and find passage off-world.”

“So when do we need to leave?”

“There are only two flights left on the port that can get you to Fhloston in time. The sooner we leave, the better.”

“Galo!” Lio called out, and was rewarded with Galo whipping out his new ID, and defensively yelling, “Multipass!”

He had to hold back a snicker. “Come on. We need to get going.”

▲

It was a quick train ride to the port where Aina kept her flyer. Galo nodded in approval at the brilliant, racy red coloring of the ship, and Lio caught himself worrying that it might not be big enough for three people and 4 stones of indeterminate size. Aina was digging through a footlocker, pulling out various brickabrack, when Lio asked an important question.

“Don’t we need flight suits?”

“You won’t need one.”

He eyed the equipment, and asked, “Why not?”

She shrugged while adjusting the laces on her shoes. “My ship is designed to run fast and quiet. AC is clunky for ships that want that. The heaters are bearable… but not luxurious. She runs on the toasty side of things, but installing any other temperature system will slow her down. And don’t worry about flying without a life jacket. I have 4 emergency suits. They’re just stupid, heavy, and uncomfortable.”

“I guess… it’s better to be a bit too warm than too cold out there.” Lio said it more to convince himself of the fact.

She grinned, and lightly punched his shoulder. “Atta boy! Come on, let’s load up and get going.”

The ship had a tiny racing-style cockpit, and a common space that could be anything from a storage crate to a fighting rink. It was so bare-bones, Lio suspected he’d have to use his own pack and jacket for a bed. The accommodations weren’t prime, but he’d slept on worse.

“Wow, it really is warm…” as he felt sweat beading at the base of his neck, Lio peeled off his jacket. After folding it and putting it away, he choked on his own words.

Galo was tugging off his shirt and affording them a perfect view of the divot that ran down his middle from his chest to his belly button to his-

_Nope._ Not going there.

Aina smirked, and as she crawled up to her pilot’s seat, she nudged Lio’s shoulder with one of her pristine white boots and said, “There are worse things than being a little too warm, Fotia.”

He glared daggers at her, but said nothing.

After both Lio and Galo had their belongings stowed (Lio’s being in as far opposite a corner to Galo as he could manage), Aina began warming up the jets, and started the arduous process of requesting clearance for takeoff.

“Do you have any sleep aids?” Lio called over the whir of the machinery. She gave a vague gesture at one of the latched cases near the port wing. When Lio found them, he held a pill packet up with a dry crinkling to Galo. He took the packet, but didn’t open it.

When Lio lifted an eyebrow, he chuckled, and said “Nah. Too nervous, won’t be able to sleep anyways…”

_Right, Lio. Last time he was on a ship, he was blown to bits. Way to go._

“I’ll keep her smooth so that you can at least kick back a little, Galo!” Aina called out from the front. “Even a little cat nap will help you when it’s time to go to Fhloston.”

“Thanks, Aina.” Galo’s smile was queasy.

“Don’t thank me yet!”

“Why do you say that?”

“After this, you’re at the mercy of Lulu Fex.”


	11. Somnambulism and Other Undesirable Conditions

Vulcan hated the Lunar Port.

Sure, a large part of it was that he was a wanted criminal, and ports of entry were, you know, generally not good places for criminals to hang out. But really, the thing that got him with this whole damn moon was that the place was _dirty_. It had always been grimy, trashy, and filthy.

Ever since interstellar travel became a commercial venture, rather than strictly scientific, trash had followed in the wake of humans the same way a trail of slime followed a slug. Humans and their garbage were eternally linked.

Habit taught Vulcan not to remove his gloves, but even with them on, he couldn’t help but wipe his palms on his pants to remove imaginary grime every time he tapped a button or used a door handle. He found himself lifting his feet and crunching his already oversized legs up to avoid bits of debris every time the bar’s door opened and shut. It was getting old.

He had been here for hours. Each one dragged by slower than the last. His patience was dwindling.

Kray had said on no mistakable terms that Vulcan had to find the stones. And less than a day following, a call with a tip about somebody needing tracking down here at the Lunar Port had been eating into the rest of his free time. Vulcan was no fool, and was able to put two and two together, knowing that if Kray was still throwing him leads, even if they were on closed channels, it meant Kray still had faith in him, and that faith would lead him to the stones.

So he waited.

▲

_Lio wanted to see the sunset._

_He always forgot that little bit when he was awake, but now it was clear as ever._

_He had been bad again, for what, he didn’t know. Maybe he stole something. Maybe he had said something bad to his new adults. He wasn’t sure, but after working his way through what he was sure was the dozenth foster family in his short lifespan, he knew whatever was going to happen to him wouldn’t be good._

_As he followed his chaperone into a large building, larger than any of the schools or apartments he had flitted through, the trails of rust along the walls kept catching his eye. The place was old. Cheap. It wasn’t a house, or a store, or even a school…_

_Handfuls of people flitted back and forth as the door shut. Some were talking in low, urgent voices. Others laughed and munched on food while they sat on stacked boxes._

_The most apparent thing to Lio was that there were no other children._

_When his grumpy chaperone was able to get his attention again, he found himself standing in front of two… less than friendly-looking people._

_One was a lady with what appeared to be a permanent scowl on her face. Her skin was pale, but her hair was dark. Her clothes were dark. The other was a man who, based on Lio’s limited understanding of the world, probably ran a gang. Only gangsters dressed with oversized business suits and wore sunglasses at night. Right?_

_“So you’re the kid that egged my general’s house?” the man drawled._

_Yup. Definitely a gangster._

_Lio bit the inside of his cheek. He’d had plenty of fistfights with kids his own age. Even a few pimply teenagers, and a drunk foster parent who had been generous enough to break his own nose falling face-first into a table. But never with a… did gang bosses have official titles?_

_The man stepped forward. He was definitely in trouble._

_He reached out._

_Lio was ready to bite._

_He smacked his palm on top of Lio’s head, and mussed his hair._

_“Not to worry, kid! I remember the first time I trashed someone’s house!”_

_“Wasn’t it your old boss?” the lady said flatly. Lio was too stupefied to have any comment of his own._

_“Sure was! I was a beanpole of a kid back then… and look at this runt!” He jostled Lio in a way that was vaguely friendly. “Who’d’ve thought such a tiny package could be so troublesome?”_

_Inky blue lines peeked out from under his collar, and he slid his sunglasses up on his nose._

_The lady rolled her eyes. “Now isn’t the time.”_

_“The Nakashima’s were good to us, Ryuko. The least we can do is help them with the kid.”_

_The… right. They were the adults currently in charge of Lio. Big house. Nice faces. Maybe a little too nice, considering they let him run off this far._

_She shook her head, and they continued to argue. Lio’s eyes flitted back and forth. He had no idea what they were talking about, but he knew there was some thin thread connecting him to their argument._

_Then there was yelling outside._

_Then the hum of motors, like trucks and helicopters and other large things that Lio sometimes saw on TV, echoed all around the building._

_And then a great beam of light dragged over the windows. Searching._

_A large hand came to the top of Lio’s head, and he was pushed so that he was standing behind the weird tattoo-and-sunglasses man._

_“What?!” he yelped._

_“Don’t move, kid. Whatever you do, don’t move.”_

_The light, almost green through its brilliance, trailed past the windows like a big and heavy serpent._

_Nobody moved._

▲

“What?”

A low stutter brought Lio back to Aina’s aircraft. The faint glow of reflected sunlight on the moon’s surface made him squint. The turbulence made him scowl. They must be landing.

He looked around, and caught Galo giving him a curious look.

“You okay?”

Lio frowned, and swallowed loudly to rid himself of the ghost taste of ash in his mouth.

“Just a bad dream. Are we almost there?”

“Sure are!” Aina called out from the front. “Just got clearance to land in the D terminal. We’ll have to go all the way around to A gate. Hope you brought comfortable shoes!”

Lio sighed, trying to ignore the warm throbbing in the back of his skull that warned of a headache, and grimaced his way through a shaky landing. He very intently avoided looking at Galo, who he knew was still looking at him.

▲

“Ahh!” Aina made a distinctly displeased sound.

“What’s wrong?” Galo twisted in his seat while she descended from the cockpit, a tablet in hand.

“I forgot that I’d have to dress like a stewardess before boarding. I don’t have the uniform.” The look on her face was somewhere between nauseated and irritated. “You’ll have to get on the flight without me there.”

She handed Lio the tablet, and he had to hold back a scoff at the ridiculous outfit displayed on the screen. The lavender monstrosity was rife with cutouts, crops, and immodest lines that left little to the imagination. Aina hugged her jacket around herself, as if the action would take the discomfort of the future costume away. “It’s some French throwback, like an anniversary uniform or something…”

“The things we do for our Federation.” Lio drawled.

That brought a genuine smile to her face.

“You two go on ahead. I’ll see you onboard.”

▲

Galo seemed to be making a valiant effort to avoid gawking and looking like a total tourist. That was a good start.

It was a long walk from their terminal to the one with their flight to Floston Paradise, and they both walked with the purpose of a pair of travelers late for their ship. None of the flashy distractions for shopping, eating, and resting at the port slowed them down. In fact, nothing really caught Galo’s attention until they were almost out of D gate.

A colossal cleaning mech trudged by, and Galo tapped at Lio’s shoulder as they bustled by. His eyes went wide.

“What are those for?”

“They’re cleaning robots. Just stay out of their way, while they move the trash.”

“Wow…” Galo’s unabashed curiosity would’ve drawn attention from the cleaner had it been sentient. “Good for them!”

Lio rolled his eyes.

And then a brilliant orange flash knocked both of them to the floor.

▲

When Lio came to, it felt as if his ears and mouth had been stuffed with cotton. He could feel something heavy moving nearby through vibrations in the floor, and something wet and hot dribbled down from his nose.

“Blue or blonde?”

Something garbled came out of Lio’s mouth, and it turned into a full-body cough.

“So which one is it, hmm?” A gravelly voice came from overhead. “Which one of you knows the way to the stones, and which one do I blast the face off of?”

Lio’s vision sharpened, and something he could only call half-human glared down at him. One human eye and one cybernetic eye assessed him, and a snarling mouth full of sharp teeth glinted at him. He could feel the metal toe of one of his boots tapping against his head.

Where was Galo?

The weight of the boot on his hair kept Lio from being able to look around, but he snarled and spat on the shoe so that this new enemy would keep his attention away from wherever Galo was.

“Fiesty, aren’t you!”

“Y-you have no idea…”

“Tell me where the stones are, kid, and maybe I’ll make your death quick and painless.”

A scream, distant and feminine, reminded Lio that they weren’t alone, and while the hunter had his attention on the noise, he shoved the boot aside, and scrambled to get out of arms’ reach.

A quick glance showed his bag had slid only a few feet away (and thankfully, feet that were in the opposite direction of Monster Man).

As he ran past two strangers trying to unearth themselves from a pile of garbage that had crumbled from off the wall, he heard the pitter patter of live ammunition only a second before he saw it, bright little flares of light as the metal ricocheted. He cursed as he slipped on the floor in an attempt to grab the bag, get out of the line of fire, and find a place to hide. A sour sort of pain lanced through his foot and ankle as his weight fell on it. Damn.

He shifted, and without cover, could easily see his enemy standing several meters down the walkway. His fingers worked to unzip the bag and find Miami and Dallas.

The man laughed, and hefted some sort of monstrous firing contraption, probably custom designed, directly at Lio.

His hands closed on polished steel, and he tugged them free of their holsters.

One shot missed, but the other pinged off of the man’s shoulder. He glared at it, as if it had been a mere mosquito. Lio cursed. He was too far away.

A whir of concrete and warped metal smashed against the man’s side, and Lio almost cried with relief when he saw Galo, with his arms outstretched, just as if he had been the one to throw the mass with his own bare hands.

“Galo!”

“Lio! You’re bleeding!” He was in front of Lio within a few strides, and swiped some of the scarlet away from his mouth.

“I’m okay, really. He didn’t get you, though, right?”

“No, no, just knocked me off my feet. And I’ll heal quickly. But he didn’t shoot you right-“

A roar and the screech of old metal came out from the wall where Galo had left Vulcan.

He was crawling out of the wall, covered in filth, with a look that could only be described as murderous. One of his arms whipped out from its confinement. Several small grenades scattered about on the floor, and let out a high-pitched squeal.

“Oh no, you _don’t_!” he screamed. “Nobody gets away from Vulcan!”

“Get behind the counter!” Lio yelped.

Thankfully, Galo beat him to the shelter, and was quick to assess their situation. His eyes blazed, as if blue and hot had always naturally gone hand-in-hand.

“He’s after me. We have to stop him here, otherwise we’ll never make it to Floston Paradise.”

“Any ideas on how we’ll do that?”

Galo peeked over the edge of the counter, and scowled before slouching back down.

Lio pressed something into Galo’s hands, and hissed, “Get into the cleaning mech. By the gateway doors. You’ll be safest there.”

Before Galo could object, Lio was up again, and scrambling over trash and debris. He gave himself a generous five seconds of a head start before Vulcan pursued.

He ducked under another obstacle, this time an upturned set of chairs, fired one shot from Miami, and then ran again, zig zagging through the space, trying to anticipate and avoid any moments to put too much weight on his hurt leg.

Of course, he slipped again, just before he could unload the last shot in his magazine, and the pain tore his eyes away from Vulcan for one half-second too long.

A sharp piece of metal hit Lio square in the chest. He went flying, and then all was dark.

▲

Vulcan nudged at Lio’s prone form with a foot, and cackled. It had been a risk to throw such a large piece of debris at such a small and fast opponent, but it had struck him down, neat as could be.

If Galo hadn’t been struggling to strap himself into one of the abandoned cleaning mechs, he would have happily decapitated Vulcan right then and there. He had to get there, had to be fast…

“You lost one of your guns, kid! Really bad form of you… but really…” he squatted down, and gripped Lio by the roots of his hair, to which he made a weak protest, “Someone as small as you would break your wrists trying to shoot these. Don’t worry, I’ll find the other and take good care of it!” He tapped at the barrel of the gun before pawing it for himself.

Galo snarled, his fingers searching for the keys and codes to make the mech move.

Vulcan twirled Miami on his index finger, and jabbed it into his belt before tossing Lio into the rubble. When he tried to push himself up, Vulcan laughed, and prepared to kick him back down.

Galo let out an angry noise, and lashed out with one of the robotic arms. Vulcan dodged a bin that was thrown at him, and then another bin and a piece of abandoned luggage. Galo kept throwing, and moving closer as Vulcan ducked.

It was difficult to keep pace; Galo may have had power in spades, but Vulcan had speed. All Galo cared about was getting him as far away from Lio as possible.

He didn’t care what happened to the port. Hell, he didn’t particularly care what happened to anyone else, himself included. Lio didn’t deserve to go down like that.

He came down on Vulcan in a sloppy holding maneuver, and yelped when Vulcan kicked, and left a dent in the left shoulder. The arm groaned, made a rough hiccuping noise, and froze. He couldn’t move it.

Vulcan cackled. And then did the same thing to the other arm. Sparks flew when Galo tried to move that one. He used one of his newly-learned curse words as he pulled himself away, and gave himself some distance from the bounty hunter.

It was one of Galo’s rare mistakes. The move had given Vulcan enough time to pull out his gun, aim, and fire.

One arm flew off. Then the other.

Then Vulcan was running up, kicking the entire thing down as it struggled to make another wobbly step forward. He crawled up over the face of the mech, and tugged Galo forward by his harness, his shirt shredded to bits from the initial blast.

_Perfect._

“You’re a sore loser!”

Galo grinned, and his mouth stretched into a wicked line to complement the fire in his eyes.

From out of his back pocket, he brandished Dallas, which had been slipped to him when he and Lio were still hiding behind the counter, and pulled the trigger.

The shot, at point blank, even with armor, went through Vulcan’s shoulder. A blast of red hot blood and flesh scattered out, and the man fell to his side before he knew what had happened.

When he hit the ground, he didn’t get back up.

Galo shook himself out of the mech’s harness, and took Dallas and Miami for himself.

“Lio!” Galo skidded through the dust and rubble to help Lio back up.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” he growled. His voice broke into a harsh yelp when he put weight down on one foot.

Galo knelt down, and ran a hand over Lio’s leg and foot. There was a fracture at the very least. And he didn’t have to take Lio’s shirt off to know that there was a massive bruise forming over his ribs where Vulcan hit him.

That wouldn’t do.

“Galo?”

He breathed in deep, and sought out energy from all of the debris surrounding them before letting it pool in his hands. He couldn’t remember how the bones of a human foot were supposed to arrange themselves, but a small thought of encouragement had the bones mending themselves splendidly without his direction. He kept the pressure on Lio’s leg, feeling the flow of life and power go syrupy and slow until the energy became too hot, too hungry, and he knew that all was healed and right again.

When he looked up, he couldn’t decide if Lio’s expression was one of fury, surprise, fear, or bewildered adoration. He would have liked more time to figure out what the look meant.

▲

Fucking space magic.

“How did you…”

“We should go.” Galo said, brushing off his pants and pulling his bag, somehow still functional, from a mess of drywall. Sirens blared down from the far end of the terminal. As they ran, Lio’s breathing got heavy, and the exercise was _almost_ enough to distract him from the image of Galo’s large hands sliding down over his calf, down to his ankle.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone waiting patiently for Lucia, I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorry! I spaced on needing to flesh out this whole chapter. It was a toughie. Flashbacks and combat writing do not come naturally to me. Next chapter will be very, very fun. I promise. <3


	12. BZZZZT!

Playing dumb to all of the sirens between D and C gate kept anyone from noticing Lio and Galo as they ran from the wreckage created by Vulcan, and a hurried splash of sink water on their faces in B gate kept anyone from asking questions when they got to A gate and held up their tickets to Fhloston Paradise. If they could board the ship quickly and reach intergalactic air space, no amount of port security could do anything about it.

All that stood between them and freedom was a bored-looking stewardess running the check-in counter.

She eyed them, but didn’t ask any questions about Lio's mussed hair or the fact that one of Galo's pecs was obnoxiously bared from his torn shirt. Her manicured nails clack-clack-clacked as she typed in their credentials, and waited for green lights. When they both got a silvery “Approved” sound, Lio unclenched muscles he didn’t know he was clenching in the first place.

A series of happy chimes directed them to the departure gate. There was a slight stiffness in Lio’s leg, but it meant very little in comparison to the questions and exclamations rolling around in his brain every time he looked at his companion.

“Do you think Aina is okay?” Galo mused. “I hope nobody was chasing after her or giving her trouble…”

Lio tried calling her, but with no response, he was forced to assume no news was good news. He didn’t even realized the phone had a cracked screen until he slid it back into his pocket, and felt the rough glass catch on the fabric of his pockets.

They handed off their small backpacks to an attendant, and then another came up, nervously wringing her hands, practically yelling, “Please come with me!”

Galo eyed Lio, silently asking if he was alright to move, and looped an arm around his shoulders. Lio appreciated the solidarity of the act. A door slid open, and he prayed that they were on the way to their sleeping cell. He was in desperate need of a nap.

“Please, sir, I know this feels like a large inconvenience,” she babbled as the door slid shut. “But it is such a great honor to be on her talk show, y’know… my mom has been trying to enter the sweepstakes forever, and I just…”

Before Lio could bite out his opinion on the matter, both him and Galo skidded to a stop, and were greeted by a mob of teens and some sort of overdressed security detail. A couple disembodied cameras flashed.

With a violent speed that rivaled Galo crashing into Lio’s car, LuLu Fex arrived on the scene.

“Lio FOTIA!”

He did not respond, because something deep down in his gut told him that if he responded, he’d be signing his life away to a she-demon. The pure chaotic energy of that voice, one of the few he actively tried to avoid when the radio was on, made him imagine a wild animal howling at the moon.

She definitely fit the part, too.

Her tiny frame was swathed in some sort of wild print of pink and orange, and her frosty hair sported another shade of pink that in no way matched her coat. Green and silver baubles adorned everything from her hair to her shoes, and a single finger painted with black lacquer homed in on Lio, and he gave up any hope of escape.

“Here he is, the one and only winner of the Gemini Signs Zodiac Contest!”

She couldn’t be an inch over Lio’s own height, which was short enough as it was, but he still wanted to drop into a defensive stance because she somehow managed to stretch across the doorframe, and people made way to let her pass. She crooked a finger, turned away, and then both Lio and Galo found themselves being ushered down the hallway after Fex.

Strangest of all, a rat scurried back and forth on her shoulders as she monologued.

“This boy is fueled like fire, so start melting ladies, ‘cuz the boy is hotter than hot, he's hot, hot, HOT! The right size, right build, right hair, right on!” Lio visibly flinched. Lulu rounded on him, her mouth flashing sharp teeth and curled into a wicked smile. “Right on, right on! And my travel-size man has got something to say to those fifty billion pairs of ears out there…” A microphone was shoved into Lio’s face.

“Pop it, Lio!”

Everyone went silent, holding their breath and standing on their tippy-toes. It was surely the strangest social situation Lio could have imagined a former Special Forces being thrown into. He thought of the most intelligent thing possible to say.

“Uh… hi.”

She took it and literally ran with it. Lio was dragged along by one of the security guards as she scampered down the hall. The rat squeaked.

“Unbelievable! Quiver ladies and gents, quiver, I think our boy’s gonna set the world on fire. Right here from 5 to 7 you'll learn everything there is to know about the dark, mysterious, delicious Lioooo Fotia!” The rat squeaked again. “We’re gonna learn about his dreams, his desires, his most intimate of intimates. And from what I'm lookin' at, intimate is this stud-muffin's middle name. So tell me my man, you nervous in the service?”

She was nodding over to Galo, who was following with wide eyes and a stupid smile. She had the nerve to wink while bumping the microphone against Lio’s nose.

“Uhm. Not really.”

He was feeling a lot of things right now, but nervous wasn’t one of them.

Lulu continued down her warpath, and snatched some champagne from a starry-eyed stewardess.

“Freeze those knees, friends and enemies, ‘cuz LuLu Fex is in the place and she's on the case. Yesterday's frog will be tomorrow's prince, of Fhloston Paradise! The hotel of a thousand and one follies and lick 'em lollies. A magic fountain flow of non stop wine, women and cootchie cootchie coo!!” Lio scowled, and his host dove into a series of nonsense words and sing-song lines.

And then Lulu Fex caught sight of one Aina Ardebit disguised as an attendant, tugging at the skirt of that stupid outfit, and lugging around a random piece of luggage.

And she liked what she saw.

She made a determined line directly for her, and began circling like a buzzard. The singing stopped, but the narrating was back, and Lio was mute with horror. The absolute last thing they needed was a blown cover.

LuLu didn’t seem to care. “...And start licking your stamps little girls, because we’re gonna have you writing home to Momma!”

Aina ignored her, and walked away. Lucia followed, practically purring. “Right here, streaming to you live from 5 to 7, I'll be your music, your voice, your tongue,” Aina continued to ignore, and Lucia continued to follow, “and I'll be hot on the tail of the sexiest man of the year... Lio, Fotia… this year’s winner... Your man... My man!”

Aina made it to the staff-only door, and let it slide shut in front of the world-famous DJ.

Even Lio grimaced a bit at the snub.

At least it was better than her melting into a fangirl puddle and making a complete fool of herself.

Somewhere, a microphone clicked off, and one of the staffers called, “That’s a wrap, Lucia!”

Something in Lulu’s posture changed, as if a switch had been flipped. She breathed deep through her nose, narrowed her eyes, and asked nobody in particular, “How was it?”

“That was… _different!_ ” Galo smiled, unsure what to say to somebody so glib, and unaware that the question was rhetorical.

“Aww…” she drawled, “You don’t need to spare my feelings, sweetheart, you’re too pretty to have to be nice, too.” She patted his cheek. Galo gave her one of his dazzling smiles, paying more attention to the compliment than anything else. He waved at Lio, and said, “I like her!”

She laughed, and it was the sort of laugh that people made when a child or a pet did something especially funny.

When she looked at Lio, the laugh died. After a couple moments of assistants fussing over her hair and makeup, she snatched a still-wrapped candy pop, and shooed her entourage away. Her sour look only got worse, and she stamped over to him.

It was only now that Lio realized that she was shorter than him. Barely.

“Lio, sweetie, what was that?!”

She waved her hand, and he scowled.

“It was bad! It had nothing! No fire, no energy, no nothing! You know I have a show to run here, you know? Hmm? Hmm?!” She was patting his cheek, though much less affectionately than she had Galo, and her eyes blazed with animosity.

“Stop that.” he hissed.

“Oh, so you’re bossy, huh? The bossy man? The Big Boss?! No no no no, don’t talk, wouldn’t want you to meet your daily ten word quota early! Save it for tomorrow. Because tomorrow’s gotta pop, you hear me? It must pop, Pop, POP!” When her voice rose to a shout, and Lio jerked back, she brought it back down to a growl. “Tomorrow, I’ll do all the talking. But sooner or later, you’re gonna talk. Do whatever you need, I don’t care, but in two days, you will act like you have a little fire in there!” She jabbed his stomach. “I don’t care if it’s hot. I don’t care if it’s cold. Gimme something that’ll bring the money. Make it good, make it green. It must be green, okay?”

Lio, tired of the pokes, started nodding, took her by the shoulder, murmuring “Can I talk to you?”, and turned her so that they walked away from the rest of the group. He whipped her around the corner before shoving her against a wall and dropping into his Special Forces persona.

“Let’s get one thing right here. I didn’t come on this trip to play tambourine in your little sideshow, okay?” He narrowed his eyes, and poked her shoulder in a poor imitation of what she had been doing earlier. “So if you’re looking for someone to give you a hand, give yourself one. Are we green?”

She yelped, and he jabbed harder. Had he been closer to having supernatural powers like Galo, he was sure flames would be pouring out of his mouth.

“Super green! Super fly! Super good!” she hissed.

He stepped back, gave her one more disdainful look, and walked away.

“Should have gotten the pretty blue boy,” she fumed to herself as he rejoined Galo, “at least he knows how to smile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! The very first scene I imagined when I started playing with this crossover way back in the spring.
> 
> Please, if you haven't seen Fifth Element (and even if you never intend to watch the whole enchilada), please watch the original Ruby Rhod monologue because it is pure cinematic & acting gold.
> 
> And then come back here and comment to tell me how life-changing it was.


End file.
